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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28809333">We Fools Who Love, Part 1</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Could_it_be_magic/pseuds/Could_it_be_magic'>Could_it_be_magic</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>We Fools Who Love [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Natasha Romanov Has Issues</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:34:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>66,455</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28809333</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Could_it_be_magic/pseuds/Could_it_be_magic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha Romanoff gave her life on Vormir. That should have been it. But the universe is not done with her.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Natasha Romanov (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>We Fools Who Love [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2113254</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>91</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. 1.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So this is my first proper fanfic that I've posted, so please go easy on me! Its set immediately after Endgame (spoiler alert!). I've always thought Nat got her nose pushed out in a big way (did she even get a funeral?!) and while I'm happy there's a Black Widow movie coming, I have my own ideas about her past, her character, and how she might develop. I hope you like it.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Life sucks and then you die. Unless of course a mysterious blonde woman with super powers decrees otherwise.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>VORMIR</p><p> </p><p>Of course it had to be me.</p><p>I had no family. No children – the Red Room ‘graduation ceremony’ had seen to that. I could never have what Clint Barton had lost. What he could have again if this worked. I was the one who had nothing to lose. I was the infamous Black Widow. An instrument of death. Although, until now, I had never figured I would be the instrument of my own.</p><p>Clint fought me of course. And I was glad he did. It made it easier to ignore what I was doing, prevent my survival instinct from kicking in. I had to stop him from sacrificing himself, even though it meant giving my life instead.</p><p>I didn’t want to die!</p><p>But I <em>did</em> want to win.</p><p>It was close.</p><p>I looked up at Clint. We dangled above the abyss, his desperate grip on my wrist the only thing between me and that long, long drop. The heartbroken anguish on his face calmed me. My best friend. My saviour. He would miss me, remember me. The Avengers, they were my family, and they would mourn me. And they would survive, they would regain what they had lost, they would be happy again. All the times I could have given my life for some stupid mission. How could I not give my life for them?</p><p>I smiled at Clint through the tears.</p><p>“It’s okay,” I whispered. “You can let go.”</p><p>“No!” he moaned. “Please!”</p><p>“It’s okay,” I repeated.</p><p>Then I kicked off the rock face, hard. My wrist slipped from his grasp.</p><p>
  <em>Live, my friend. For me. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>******</p><p>
  
</p><p>I opened my eyes.</p><p>Strange.</p><p>Blurred colours and vague shapes swam in my vision. Everything was out of focus. But I was definitely awake, my eyes were open.</p><p>That wasn’t supposed to happen.</p><p>I blinked, trying to focus. My last memory, Clint’s anguished face above mine, gravity sucking me down…</p><p>Clint! The Avengers! Thanos!</p><p>I sat bolt upright, and regretted it instantly, letting out an involuntary gasp of pain. My head pounded, my mouth was dry and tasted terrible, my stomach heaved. My body felt like a thousand needle-sharp knives were stabbing every inch of me over and over.</p><p>Why was I feeling these things? I was dead. Surely when you were dead, all the pain went away…</p><p>“You’re not dead.”</p><p>I dazedly turned my head, trying to locate the voice that had spoken, trying to concentrate. My head was chaos, so many thoughts, fragments of memory, chasing around inside my skull. I gritted my teeth against the pain, doggedly pursued the fragment that I needed, that was important right now.</p><p>The voice was wrong. I was dead. I had to be. I remembered falling, I remembered an instant of sheer terror, and then a moment of pure calm. A strange contentment. Because all the uncertainty was gone. Nothing could prevent my death. No more struggle, no more loss, no more hard choices. I was done. I was complete.</p><p>I blinked rapidly. The room abruptly came into clear focus.</p><p>I was in a bed with rough linen sheets. Golden sunshine was pouring through a set of double doors to what looked like a balcony. I could see blue sky. A tear trickled down my cheek. I had never thought I would see blue sky again. It was beautiful. Was this heaven? Is this where you went when you died? But if it was, why did it hurt so much?</p><p>“You’re not dead,” the voice repeated.</p><p>The sound sharpened my mind like a laser beam, cutting through the pain and confusion. I tore my eyes away from that beautiful patch of sky.</p><p>The room I was in was small and rustic. Like a cabin. Rough plank walls, wooden furniture. Modern in style, if simple. No tv, no phone, no technology of any kind, and sparsely furnished, but very clean. Chair by the bedside, and another beside the fireplace. My mind analysed the space automatically. Not much room to move. No windows, and the balcony was the only visible exit. Strange. There were logs stacked beside the fireplace and an iron poker in a wooden stand. A small table I could grab up and smash over an enemy head... Then a spasm of pain rippled through my body and I dismissed the thought angrily. I could barely move. Wherever I was, the chances of me fighting my way out were zero.</p><p>A woman was standing by a large fireplace. She stood with her back to me, leaning against the rough timber mantlepiece, staring into the glowing red embers. She looked… ordinary. Totally ordinary. No fancy uniform or weapons. She was average height, probably an inch or so taller than me. Long blonde hair, a loose white shirt and blue jeans cut off a little raggedly at the knees. Her legs and feet were bare.</p><p>I licked my parched lips, tried to force them to shape words.</p><p>“I was dead.” My voice cracked, even huskier than usual, but it was my voice.</p><p>The woman slowly turned around and looked straight at me. Her eyes were a dazzling blue, just like the sky outside. Her long hair, so blonde it was golden, fell from an off-centre parting, framing a tanned face with sensual lips and a dusting of freckles on her nose. Her eyebrows were so pale they were hardly visible, suggesting her hair colour was natural rather than artifice. Her age was hard to guess, perhaps somewhere in the mid to late twenties or early thirties. She looked so ordinary, harmless even, if it weren’t for the intensity of those sapphire blue eyes. She gazed at me as though she could pierce right through my skin.</p><p>She said nothing, just gazed at me.</p><p>“I <em>was</em> dead,” I repeated. I had never been more certain of anything than I was of that fact.</p><p>The woman took a deep breath.</p><p>“Yes,” she said, those intense blue eyes locked on mine. “You were.”</p><p>I stared at her dumbly.</p><p>A wave of nausea made the room spin unpleasantly. My muscles spasmed uncontrollably. Holding myself upright was suddenly unbearably painful.</p><p>The woman’s gaze softened.</p><p>“You should lie back down,” she said. She crossed the room to my bedside and placed a hand behind my shoulders, pushed gently with the other, lowering me back to the bed. My head landed on a soft pillow. She pulled the sheets up to my chin. She lightly stroked my cheek with her finger, then abruptly pulled away, as though embarrassed.</p><p>I stared at her, fighting to process this situation, but I was so tired. So, so tired. And there was so much pain. My vision was turning blurry again. All I could see was those blue eyes.</p><p>“Sleep,” said the voice behind those eyes. “Heal. You have time.”</p><p><em>Time</em>…</p><p>I tried to process the memory stirred up by that word. It was important, I was sure it was important… but I was so tired. The pain, the woman, the room, the memories, none of it felt real. Perhaps none of it was real. A mist seemed to be growing within the room, the light and colours swirling together and fading to deeper and deeper shades of grey. I was too weak to resist. I drifted on a gentle tide of encroaching darkness, and surrendered, letting it carry me away.</p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p>When I awoke, I felt immediately that something had changed. I twisted my head on the pillow, trying to discern what was different.</p><p>I was in the same room, the same bed. The woman was gone, the room was empty.</p><p>The linen curtains at the open door billowed slightly in a breeze. Sunshine was still streaming through, making a warm golden oblong on the floorboards. I could see that patch of blue sky, still so beautiful.</p><p>I lay there, watching the curtains ripple. Watched a fluffy cotton-wool cloud drift across the patch of sky. The angle of the sunlight was similar, but something told me time had passed. My body felt… different. It didn’t hurt anymore. My mouth still tasted vile, but I didn’t feel sick so much as… hollow. Empty. I was hungry. In fact, I was ravenous. My mind felt more alert, my surroundings less like a dream.</p><p>I tried to sit up. My muscles trembled, and I flopped like a landed fish on the mattress. I was so weak! I couldn’t remember ever feeling this weak before. I gritted my teeth and this time managed to haul myself upright. Shoved the bedclothes back. Slowly, torturously, I managed to swing my legs over the side of the bed. I sat there, panting, feeing totally drained by the effort. While I waited to get my breath back, I looked down at my own body.</p><p>I barely recognised it. If it hadn’t been for the familiar scars marring my pale skin in places, I would have thought I had somehow awoken in another body entirely. I had always been slender, but now I was emaciated, like my flesh had melted onto my skeleton. Every bone was visible beneath my skin, my muscles wasted. I was only wearing underwear. The same black underwear I had been wearing the day I died… only it couldn’t be, could it? It looked like my own, but it fitted me like a glove. It shouldn’t have fitted like that if it was mine, not with how much weight I had apparently lost since that day… when had it been? How much time had passed?</p><p>I looked around, sudden urgency overcoming any feeling of weakness.</p><p>How long had it been? What had happened to my friends? We had been on a mission, to find the infinity stones, to try to undo what Thanos had done, bring back the vanished… I had sacrificed myself on Vormir to gain the soul stone. A soul for a soul. Had it worked? Or was the fact that I was here, now, awake, inexplicably alive… did that mean I had failed?</p><p>I struggled to my feet, staggered, and instinctively grabbed the back of the armchair to stop myself falling. My eyes searched the room frantically, looking for a tv, a phone, a newspaper, <em>anything</em> that would give me some clue.</p><p>There was nothing.</p><p>“You shouldn’t be out of bed.”</p><p>I swung around, and colours exploded behind my eyes as I nearly blacked out from the sudden movement. Strong hands caught my arms, prevented me from falling. I blinked rapidly to clear my vision and found a pair of blue eyes gazing intently into mine.</p><p>“Thanos,” I rasped, struggling to get the words out. “The Avengers. What….. happened….? How …. long…?”</p><p>The woman sighed. Her grip on my arms firm, but gentle, she helped me stagger a few steps, then lowered me into the armchair beside the fire.</p><p>She made a quick, beckoning gesture, and the armchair beside the bed whipped smoothly across the floor to settle on the other side of the fireplace opposite me. Another gesture, and a fluffy bathrobe floated into her hand. She silently helped me into it, wrapping it snugly around my wasted body, then sat down herself.</p><p>I stared at her, lost for words. An enhanced! One we had never encountered before – if nothing else, I would have remembered those eyes. I had never before seen irises such a brilliant shade of blue.</p><p>She saw my amazement and shrugged with a slight smile, then seemed to notice I was still shivering, despite the golden sunshine and the fluffy bathrobe. She waved her hand again and a couple of logs floated up from the stack to the side and deposited themselves neatly on top of a pile of glowing red embers in the fireplace. The poker lifted itself out of its stand and stirred the embers vigorously. In moments, flames licked up around the logs, bathing me in sudden warmth. The poker drifted back to its stand.</p><p>“Handy,” I croaked, trying to appear indifferent.</p><p>The woman shrugged again. “Stuff happened. It changed me. Hardly a new story, these days.”</p><p>“What happened to me?” I asked. The burning need to know strengthened my voice. “Please, what happened? Who are you? Why am I here? Did Clint get the soul stone? The Avengers…”</p><p>“Yes,” the woman said simply. “You sacrificed yourself on Vormir. A soul for a soul. Barton got the soul stone. He took it back to the Avengers.”</p><p>“He did.” Momentary relief flooded through me, before urgency overtook it once more. “What happened? Did the others get back? Did the plan work? Are they ok?”</p><p>The woman sighed and looked away.</p><p>Dread stole my breath. “They… they are ok, right?”</p><p>“They are fine. Most of them.”</p><p>I swallowed. “Most…?”</p><p>The woman sighed again and looked into the fire. “Your friends succeeded in assembling the infinity stones. They brought back the vanished. Unfortunately, time travel has its… complications. Their actions brought a previous version of Thanos forward into the present, and an army with him. He tried to take the stones, to destroy the universe entirely and remake it. Your friends fought him, along with many others. There was a battle. Thanos almost took back the stones, but Iron Man managed to retrieve the glove and used it against him. Clicked his fingers and made him and his whole army disappear into dust.”</p><p>“Tony… used the stones,” I said, my mouth dry. Something told me there would have been a terrible price for this victory. The stones were so powerful…using them had nearly killed Thanos himself…</p><p>“Tony’s dead, isn’t he?”</p><p>The woman nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said.</p><p>I sucked in a breath and closed my eyes. “The others?”</p><p>“They survived.”</p><p>I nodded mechanically. “The vanished?”</p><p>“All returned.” She smiled wryly. “A bit messed up for having a five-year gap, but no lasting harm done. I imagine the greetings card industry will be taking full advantage.”</p><p>“Clint’s family are alive?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Thank god.” I sank forward, my head in my hands to hide the embarrassing tears that trickled down my face. I wasn’t used to feeling emotions this vivid, or this conflicted. I was so happy for Clint, so glad that my being alive hadn’t messed things up…. And at the same time devastated that Tony Stark; annoying, infuriating, witty Tony Stark was never going to be around to make a cynical comment or brilliant invention, ever again.</p><p>I heard the woman get to her feet again, tactfully giving me a little space. “You’re hungry,” she said. “I’ll get you something to eat.”</p><p>I barely registered her leaving, too busy trying to master myself. I fought for the control that always used to be second nature – the mission was what counted, let nothing interfere with the mission. But I was weak and exhausted, and control escaped me. I stared into the fire and watched the flames dance. Fragments of memory flashed across my mind like shards of a broken mirror catching the light. <em>Tony, carrying his daughter, the day we visited him at his lakeside house. Sitting in my office threatening to throw a peanut butter sandwich at Steve, who leaned in the doorway with a sad smile, trying to cheer me up. Bruce, huge and green, sitting in a diner in a shirt and pants, posing for a photo with some kids. Clint, standing on his porch, arms around his wife, watching his children play.</em></p><p>“Here.”</p><p>I blinked, realising I had sunk into a trance-like stupor. The woman was back, holding out a bowl. A rich smell wafted up and made my mouth water. Some kind of stewed meat and vegetables. I tried to take the bowl, but my hands shook so much I nearly dropped it.</p><p>With a look of infinite patience, the woman took the bowl back, spooned up some stew and held it to my lips. Humiliated, but too hungry to protest, I let her feed me like a small child. At least she had the decency to avoid eye-contact as much as possible, allowing me to feel like I had held on to a tiny piece of my dignity.</p><p>“Who are you?” I demanded when she put the empty bowl to one side and sat back down opposite me.</p><p>“My name is Melanie.”</p><p>“Where are we, Melanie?”</p><p>She sighed. “Well, it’s a bit of a long story, but to cut it short… I don’t actually know.”</p><p>“Okay.” I thought about that, then dismissed it. Later. The food had helped, I felt a little stronger. My head was starting to clear. I felt old habits coming back into play, examining and analysing every scrap of available information. The breeze floating in through the open door held the scents of green plants and ocean salt. A few grains of sand clung to Melanie’s feet and legs. If I listened closely I could hear the pounding of surf, as well as the chatter of birds and hum of insects. She was wearing the same white shirt and cut-off jeans I had first seen her in. Her voice was quiet, a little hoarse, as though she wasn’t used to speaking aloud. A British accent. No, Scottish. Well educated, from her inflection and manner of speaking. Slim, reasonable muscle tone, clearly used to some form of exercise, although no sign of the kind of tense, sinewy muscle gained through constantly fighting for your life. When I was on form, I could have had her down in a heartbeat. As I was now, she could probably trounce me with one hand tied behind her back. I felt a momentary sadness that I immediately assumed I would have to fight her.</p><p>“Melanie, why am I here?”</p><p><em>Clint’s anguished face above mine, falling, falling</em>…. I flinched and pushed the memory away.</p><p>Melanie sighed again. “Part of that long story I mentioned.”</p><p>I gazed at her pointedly. “I don’t seem to be going anywhere.”</p><p>She spread her hands. “No but you are weak, still healing. You need to rest.” She stood up. “Let’s get you back to bed.”</p><p>“I don’t want rest, I want answers,” I snapped, trying to ignore the trembling of my limbs that was giving credence to her remark. Was I a prisoner?</p><p>She just smiled and flicked a finger. And in a blur of motion, I was abruptly back in bed. I swore and tried to fight the bedclothes entangling me, but my body traitorously refused to obey my commands.</p><p>A gentle hand stroked my hair from my forehead, startling me a little. Very few people had ever touched me without my consent, let alone so tenderly. This seemed to argue against the prisoner theory, and that left me at a loss. Frustration swelled, almost reducing me to another mortifying fit of tears. I held them back with a supreme force of will, swearing again under my breath. What was going on? Where was I? Why was I alive? And who was this woman who seemed to be tending me so conscientiously?</p><p>“Rest, Natasha,” Melanie said quietly. “I promise, you <em>will</em> get your answers, or at least, as much as I can tell you. But right now your body needs energy to repair itself, and you are wasting it. Rest.” She smiled crookedly. “That’s an order, Agent Romanoff.”</p><p>I bristled, but before I could tell her exactly what she could do with her orders, she turned away, scooped up the empty stew bowl and vanished between the billowing curtains.</p><p>I lay there, fuming. But I had to admit she was right. My body was so infernally weak, and the bed was so comfortable… seconds later, I was asleep.</p><p> </p><p>****</p><p> </p><p>“Rise and shine.”</p><p>I blinked gritty eyes and found Melanie leaning over me.</p><p>“I brought you breakfast,” she said, indicating a wooden tray. A big plate of scrambled eggs and some kind of fruit I didn’t recognise, sliced into pieces like a melon. A roughly hewn wooden cup filled with water stood next to it. “You want to try feeding yourself this time?”</p><p>I grimaced and warily wriggled into a sitting position. To my surprise, I felt stronger. My limbs no longer trembled.</p><p>Melanie tucked the pillow behind my back, placed the tray on my knees and then eyed me critically.</p><p>“What?” I snapped.</p><p>She smiled. “You’re starting to look more like yourself again.”</p><p>“How would you know?” I demanded. I had never met this woman before this. How could she possibly know how I normally looked?</p><p>She shrugged. “It’s a –“</p><p>“Long story, yeah, I get it.” I glowered. This woman was really starting to irritate me.</p><p>She raised an eyebrow at my tone, then glanced pointedly at the food.</p><p>I repressed a momentary urge to hurl it in her face, then felt guilty. I had no reason to be so angry when she was clearly helping me. Confused, I picked up the fork – again made of wood, I noticed – and started shovelling eggs into my mouth. They tasted odd, somehow I doubted they came from a chicken, but I was so hungry I couldn’t gobble them down fast enough. When they were gone I ripped into the strange fruit, sucking the sweet juice from my fingers.</p><p>Melanie sat down and watched me intently.</p><p>Finally I got irritated again and flicked an empty fruit rind at her. “Will you please stop staring at me like that.”</p><p>The rind halted in mid-air millimetres from her face, and then floated down to land on the tray. But she looked sheepish.</p><p>“Oh. Sorry. I’m… I’m not really used to company. Or company that can see and hear me anyway.”</p><p>I cocked my head at her. “You realise I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said waspishly.</p><p>She sighed. “All part of the long story. Which I will tell you very soon, I promise. But first I want to check how you’re doing. Do you feel up to walking around a bit?”</p><p>I flexed my leg muscles experimentally. Looking down at myself, I was surprised to see a little more flesh than before. I was very skinny, but you could no longer find every bone in my body without an x-ray. Although how on earth I could have gained so much weight after the one bowl of stew I remembered eating I had no idea. I glanced around, half-expecting to see drips, medical equipment, some sign of being tube-fed while I was unconscious but there was nothing.</p><p>“I think I can manage,” I said. I was itching to find out what was beyond this room, not to mention find answers to the million other questions buzzing around my brain like a hive of bees.</p><p>“All right then.” Melanie smiled and offered me her hand. After a slight hesitation, I took it and allowed her to assist me to my feet. I was pleased to find that, though still a little bit wobbly, I wasn’t nearly as shaky as last time. Melanie handed me the same bathrobe as before.</p><p>“It’s okay,” she said, seeing my dubious look towards the outside. “There’s no-one else here. I’ll sort you out some clothes by tomorrow, but it won’t do your street cred any harm to promenade in your dressing gown for now.”</p><p>The British really did have a language all of their own. I got the gist however and pulled on the bathrobe. It took me a minute to tie the belt, my fingers fumbled with the knot, but Melanie waited patiently, making no move to help. I was grateful for that. I wondered if she understood how much I hated being dependant on someone else, how helpless it made me feel. I guessed from her behaviour that she did.</p><p>As if she could read my mind, Melanie again made no offer of assistance as I took a shaky step forward. Instead, her eyes unfocussed, and she stared intently out of the door. Pausing to catch my breath, I eyed her quizzically. A second later, a long, straight section of tree branch as thick as a stout rope flew in through the curtains, shedding leaves which blew back out the door in a long curling line as though sucked out with a vacuum. Melanie frowned at the branch in concentration, and I watched the rough bark peel away like a banana skin, leaving perfectly smooth wood behind. The surface seemed to ripple, then writhe, then a Celtic knot design snaked its way around. Within moments, an intricately carved wooden staff hung in the air before me. Melanie plucked the newly made staff out of the air and handed it to me with a slight smile, before leading the way outside.</p><p>I fingered the staff, a little spooked, but its sturdy support did help my tentative steps enormously, and it beat leaning on a stranger’s arm like an old crone. Having something approaching a weapon back in my hands also did wonders for my self-confidence. But how had Melanie known? I gazed after the woman, baffled by this mystery woman who seemed to understand me so well.</p><p>Melanie was waiting on the balcony, her back to me, looking out. Staff tapping on the floorboards, I shuffled through the door and joined her.</p><p>The view took my breath away.</p><p>To our left and behind us, dense green foliage stretched away up a slope surely steep enough to be a mountain, although it was difficult to determine its elevation from where I stood. Towering cliffs blocked the view to the right. Directly in front of us, a mere stone’s throw away, gently rolling surf undulated over pristine white sand, edged with palm trees. The horizon was a deep blue line, broken here and there by tiny islands, outcrops of rock covered in greenery. A cool ocean breeze whispered across my skin, lifting a few strands of my hair. The air was warm and full of sounds – the calls of birds, hum of insects, a hooting sound I thought might be a monkey. It was like stepping into an advert for a tropical paradise holiday destination – except I could tell at a glance that no human had set foot here for a long, long time. Maybe never.</p><p>My room, I now saw, was a single cabin-like structure tucked into the spreading branches of an enormous tree. What I had assumed to be a balcony now proved to be a kind of walkway between this cabin and another similar one in a neighbouring tree. Pressing my palms against the railing, I looked over the edge and saw the roof of another structure on the ground.</p><p>“I didn’t know what the wildlife was like around here, if there was anything dangerous, so it seemed best to sleep off the ground,” Melanie explained, following my gaze.</p><p>I nodded. I would have followed the same reasoning. Not that I would ever have even imagined building anything like this. Maybe a hammock, some kind of roof to keep the rain off…</p><p>“You built all this?” I asked, awed. Judging by the demonstration of her powers she had already given me, this modest treehouse was almost certainly well within her capabilities, but it was still impressive. The level of detail evident in my own room surely couldn’t have been created without extensive time and effort…</p><p>“Melanie,” I said, swallowing hard. “How long have you… we… been here?”</p><p>“So far, fifty-six days and this morning,” she answered quietly, gazing out to sea.</p><p>My mind tried to process that.</p><p>“I’ve been asleep for nearly two months?”</p><p>She turned those intense blue eyes on me. “Your injuries were… extensive,” she said.</p><p>I shuddered, remembering again the long, long fall. I had no doubt about that. A fall from that height… the landing on the rocks I had seen below had probably broken every bone in my body, burst my internal organs open like over-ripe fruit, sliced my spinal cord in half a dozen places… I had no memory of landing. I was suddenly intensely grateful for that. Frowning, I tried to recapture the memory of that last strange moment of calm, contented certainty…  but the maddening question of how I was standing here, moving, breathing, made it impossible. I had died, I <em>knew</em> that, I knew I had landed on those rocks and my body had cracked like an egg. There was no possibility a human could survive a fall like that. Yet here I stood.</p><p>Melanie saw the questions fill my eyes and nodded.  “Let’s go down to the beach,” she suggested. “The fresh air will do you good. Then we can talk. If you want.”</p><p>For a second I wondered if I really did want those questions answered. But only for a second. “Okay,” I agreed, hefting my staff and hobbling a few steps along the walkway. I looked for a way to reach the ground, some kind of ladder or staircase but there was none, just a section of walkway near the centre where the railing was missing. Peering gingerly over the edge, I saw a hole in the roof of the structure directly below.</p><p>“You have got to be kidding me,” I muttered.</p><p>Melanie smiled and stepped off the edge, walking out a few feet into empty space. She turned in mid-air to face me, then smoothly floated downwards as though she was standing in an invisible elevator, disappearing through the hole in the roof.</p><p>“Step off,” came her voice from below. “I’ve got you.”</p><p>“Seriously?” I demanded of a large bird sitting on a nearby branch, which cocked its colourful head to one side and eyed me intently with one beady eye. “She can build a whole swiss family Robinson treehouse with her mind, but she can’t put in a set of stairs?”</p><p>The bird cocked his head the other way, then began preening his feathers.</p><p>“Yeah, what do you care,” I muttered. I stared downward, clenching my fingers around my staff. Sweat broke out on my upper lip, and I nervously blotted it on my sleeve. I had never been afraid of heights in my life. Hell, not that long ago I wouldn’t even have waited for help, I’d have just jumped. Tucked and rolled at the bottom, come to my feet ready to kick the ass of anything in the way. It wasn’t such a long drop really, just a couple of stories, in fact compared with Vormir it was pitiful…</p><p>“Stop thinking about that,” I ordered myself sharply. I knew what this was, and I had to get back on the horse, fast, before the trauma could root permanently in my brain and paralyse me. A fear of heights was a liability I couldn’t afford. Squeezing my eyes shut, I swallowed hard and then forced myself to step forward. Once. Then again. I still felt like there was firm ground underfoot. I cracked one eye open and peeped down.</p><p>My feet were standing on nothing.</p><p>“Holy shit,” I croaked, wishing I hadn’t eaten before, my stomach giving an unpleasant lurch. I squeezed my eyes shut again, focussed on breathing calmly, in, out, in. Hands gently gripped my upper arms and I gave an involuntary yelp, much to my embarrassment. I opened my eyes and found myself standing on solid floorboards, face to face with Melanie. She had lowered me down so quickly and smoothly I hadn’t even felt a sensation of falling.</p><p>“Are you all right?” Melanie asked.</p><p>Shrugging out of her grip, I took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and nodded. Then, feeling that her earlier show of consideration had earned a verbal response, I condescended to mutter, “Yeah. I’m okay.”</p><p>She gave me a long, measuring look, but she made no further comment.</p><p>“This way then.” She led the way through the room I now stood in. It only had two walls. The fourth corner of the roof was held up by a tree trunk which formed a pillar, leaving two sides of the building open to the outside. I could see where nearby greenery had started to protrude into the room, blurring the boundary between indoors and outdoors. The room appeared to be part kitchen, part living room. There was a fireplace with a tripod over it, from which hung a large iron pot, as well as a spit. Bunches of odd vegetables and a large duck-like bird hung from solid wood beams. There was a large plank table on which rested a woven basket full of the same fruits I had been served for breakfast, and a huge stone trough that looked to be in use as a sink. A large, squashy corner sofa took up at least half the room. Some slightly lopsided shelves held a variety of pots, pans, clay plates and wooden dishes, and some knives that looked to be fragments of broken shell, bound to bundles of twigs.</p><p>It was a perplexing mixture of modern and Neanderthal.</p><p>Melanie saw me examining the knives and shrugged a little apologetically. “I haven’t quite figured out how to make decent knives yet,” she explained. “Pots and pans and plates and stuff were pretty easy, I just take a lump of iron or clay or wood or whatever and shape it, kind of like modelling clay. Knives though, they are tricky, wood and clay had too dull an edge. I tried iron, but I couldn’t get it to sharpen, it just kept bending or breaking. I thought about trying to make steel, but one chunk of iron ore is the only metal I’ve found so far. I don’t know enough about steel-making to be able to recreate it without a lot of trial and error, and I didn’t want to use up all the ore experimenting.”</p><p>“Makes sense,” I said, wondering in passing at what point my life had gotten so weird that a woman talking about creating knives from iron ore with just her mind seemed fairly common-place by comparison.</p><p>She seemed surprised, but pleased, by my reaction. “Come on,” she said, gesturing out towards the sandy beach only a few metres away. I hobbled after her.</p><p>Smooth sections of tree trunk had been laid as stepping stones between the house and the beach, a safe passage through the undergrowth for our bare feet. I stepped off onto the sand and paused a moment, suddenly overwhelmed by the simple sensation of sun-warmed sand under the soles of my feet. I flexed my toes, digging in and finding the cooler, moist layer beneath.</p><p>Melanie chuckled. “You see why I don’t bother with shoes most of the time. Sometimes it’s the little things that help keep you sane.”</p><p>I nodded silently.</p><p>“Here,” she said, indicating a large log over to one side. “Come and sit down. I think you’ve been on your feet long enough.”</p><p>Much as it frustrated me, I couldn’t dispute her analysis. Exhaustion was already making my legs start to shake alarmingly again, my grip on my crutch slackening. Without making a big deal of it, she took my arm and helped me the last couple of feet, lowering me gently to the sand so that I could rest my back against the log, facing the ocean, laying my staff beside me on the ground.</p><p>I breathed in the smell of the sea, the sight and sound of the waves rushing forward and back, the calls of the birds and rustle of leaves in the forest behind me. The sun warmed my face, the breeze tickled my skin.</p><p>I felt again that sense of unreality. It was so incredibly peaceful here, so completely at odds with my usually conflict-strewn existence. I had never dwelled overly much on the question of what happened after death, having the fatalistic attitude that the existence of a heaven was moot when I clearly would never deserve admittance. But if I was to speculate on how others thought of heaven, I could imagine they might describe something like this.</p><p>“It is beautiful isn’t it,” Melanie said quietly. She had sat down a few feet away. She smiled that crooked smile. “Could have been a lot worse places to end up.”</p><p>“How did we end up here? Where <em>is</em> here?” I asked. “Are we on Earth?” Not so long ago I would never have asked that question, but now I had been in a spacecraft, visited other planets. The idea of ending up on another world was not as far-fetched as the idea that I had somehow survived a two-hundred foot plummet onto solid rock.</p><p>“Almost certainly.”</p><p>She shrugged as I raised a brow at the <em>almost</em>. “Well, it’s hard to make a 100% positive ID, but either we’re on Earth, or we’re on a planet that has almost identical flora and fauna. Which I guess is possible, but does seem unlikely.”</p><p>“Right,” I agreed. I looked up speculatively.</p><p>She followed my gaze and nodded. “I tried to figure out where we are from the stars, but I don’t recognise any constellations. Astronomy isn’t really my thing. But seen as I’ve never left the northern hemisphere before, we could be somewhere really far south. One of the islands in the pacific maybe.”</p><p>I glanced behind me.</p><p>“Yes, it’s an island,” she confirmed, again before I could voice the question. She pointed upwards with one finger. “I lifted myself up. Fairly small island, about four or five miles across. A few other little islands dotted about nearby. No sign of human activity, and nothing but ocean as far as I can see in every direction. I went up as high as I could, until it started to get hard to breathe. Nothing. Haven’t even heard a plane. Wherever we are, it’s a long way from anywhere.”</p><p>“Okay.” I watched the waves, idly digging a small hole in the sand with my foot. Weirdly, the news that we were totally off the grid didn’t concern me for the moment. It was just so peaceful here. I had suffered so much, for so long. The sun warming my skin felt like a balm to my tired soul.</p><p>But the questions wouldn’t be supressed for long, no matter how much I secretly longed for peace. I had to know.</p><p>“You promised me a story,” I prompted softly. “I think I’m ready to hear it now.”</p><p>Melanie seemed to search for something in my gaze, then nodded, satisfied. “All right. Where do you want me to start?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. 2.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Melanie tells her story</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Who doesn't love an origin story? I couldn't resist.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“How about at the beginning,” I suggested.</p><p>Melanie almost laughed. “Fair enough.”</p><p>She was silent a moment, gathering her thoughts. “My name is… was… Melanie Macdonald. I was a biochemist in a lab attached to Edinburgh University. I was studying the rate of reaction in cellular –“ She broke off and laughed at the expression on my face. I scowled, irritated that I was so easily read, but really, that was all I needed, another scientist spouting gibberish!</p><p>“Okay, okay, it doesn’t matter what I was studying. I worked in a lab in Edinburgh. I was working late one night, on my own, and suddenly all hell breaks loose outside. Screams and shouting and things crashing. I was heading to the window to see what was going on when the whole wall just blew apart. Some kind of golden light… or energy… I don’t know how to describe it, but it hit me smack in the chest and sent me tumbling, right across the room, right into the chemical storage cabinet. I… don’t remember much more. The lights flickering. Debris falling. There was a big shard of glass sticking right through my stomach like a spear…” She trailed off, then shrugged. “I woke up in hospital, tubes, electrodes stuck all over me, beeping machines, the full nine yards. I’m not sure how long I’d been unconscious, but I don’t think they expected me to wake up. It was crazy for a while, nurses and doctors everywhere all poking and prodding and jabbering at me.” She grimaced. “I hate hospitals.”</p><p>I nodded polite agreement, but said nothing, waiting for her to continue.</p><p>“From what they were saying, I pieced together what had happened. There had been some kind of battle in the street. Aliens they said, fighting some red guy in a cape with gold light beaming from his forehead, and a girl that could fly and shoot red fire from her hands.”</p><p>Vision and Wanda, I realised. The day Thanos’ minions had tried to capture Vision in Scotland… I had been there, fought to rescue them with Steve and Sam in a train station…</p><p>She saw understanding dawn in my expression and nodded. “Yes. Much later… much, much later I figured out that it was Vision and Wanda they were after, and that you were there. It was Vision’s energy beam that had hit me, destroyed my lab.” She shrugged as I wondered if I should apologize. “He was defending himself. It wasn’t his fault. So… anyway, I woke up in a hospital bed. I’m not a great patient, but I just lay there and let them do whatever. But I suddenly got this craving for a can of coke.” She laughed. “Stupid, right? I’m lying there, hole in my stomach, tubes sticking out of me, and what I wanted more than anything in the world right that second was a coke. Full fat, not diet. It was driving me mad. I had to have it. Of course, the nurse said no, absolutely not, looked at me like I was crazy. Maybe I was. Because that’s when things got… seriously weird.”</p><p>She paused. I waited.</p><p>“There was this… crunching sound… and a can of coke shot right through the wall. Left a prefect hole in the plaster, like a bullet. Came shooting straight at me, nearly took my head off.” She gave a shaky laugh. “There was a vending machine in the corridor, I could see it through the hole in the wall. And I could see the front of it was all smashed up where the can had punched straight through it. And this can of coke was just… hovering, in the air, right in front of me. The nurse started screaming… the sound freaked me out, I didn’t know what was happening, and then... I’m not sure how to describe it, but it felt like something inside me… ripped. Like when you try to open a bag of popcorn and it explodes in your face.”</p><p>Melanie squeezed her eyes shut and lowered her head to her knees, as though the memory caused her physical pain.</p><p>“All hell broke loose. Everything in the room started flying around. The whole goddamn vending machine came crashing through the wall. The lights were flashing on and off, the machinery was smashing through the windows, papers were swirling everywhere, people out in the corridor were running, shouting and shrieking, stuff was breaking out there too… and this nurse just stood there and screamed and screamed, and the more she screamed the more I panicked, and the more stuff crashed into the walls…. the whole building was shaking like an earthquake... I could hear walls coming down and I knew the ceiling above me could come down any second and crush us, but all I could think about was this bloody hysterical nurse three feet away. I just wanted her to stop screaming … and then the drip ripped itself out of my arm and the tube wrapped… wrapped around her neck…”</p><p>She drew a shuddering breath. “She went quiet soon after that.” I saw a tear trickle down her nose.</p><p>Gingerly, I placed a hand on her shoulder. I wasn’t the best at comforting, but I felt compelled to try. “It wasn’t your fault. Wanda told me once, it was like that for her too, when she first got her powers. She couldn’t control it. People got hurt. It wasn’t your fault.”</p><p>She opened her eyes and looked out to sea, her expression hard. “But it was. I did that. I didn’t know what was happening, I couldn’t control it, but I was responsible. Red in my ledger.”</p><p>
  <em>I’ve got red in my ledger. I’d like to wipe it out.</em>
</p><p>I swallowed, torn between sympathy and disquiet at hearing my own words parroted back to me by this strange woman I barely knew. I slowly took my hand away. She seemed to gather herself, shake off the moment.</p><p>“Anyway, so… stuff happened. And I found myself standing there, in a hospital gown, among the wreckage. People were lying everywhere, but no one was moving. I was alone. And I realised I had done this. Whatever that energy that hit me was, or maybe the cocktail of chemicals I got doused in when I hit the cabinet in my lab, pretty much everything in there should have killed me… maybe a combination of both… I don’t know, I still don’t know how it happened, but I was different. I wasn’t me anymore. I was… something else. Something dangerous. I knew people would be coming soon. The police, the military, everyone… they would be coming for me. And not to punish me for what I had done. I could have dealt with that. I looked at the carnage I had caused, and I really hoped someone would punish me. But I knew it wouldn’t end there. What I had done… people would look at me and they would see a weapon. I was a weapon of mass destruction. Everyone would want a piece of that. They would fight to control me, use me, force me to hurt people….  I couldn’t let that happen. I had to get away. So I found some clothes in a locker. There was a wallet with cash in it in the pocket. I stole some shoes. And I stepped over all the bodies on my way out…”</p><p>She stopped again. I waited, not sure what to say, or if I should say anything.</p><p>“I don’t remember much for a while after that. I guess I was just… numb. Not thinking straight. Suffering from blood loss and shock. I walked for a long time. I ended up in a hotel room on the other side of the city. Don’t ask me why. I guess I thought I could lay low for a while, like no-one would expect a murderer to just check into a hotel. I sat on the bed for a while. And then I ... I turned on the tv.” She shook her head. “Not the normal way. I didn’t pick up the remote, press the button. I… <em>felt</em> the remote, in my head. I thought about picking it up, and it just floated into the air. I <em>felt</em> the button, in my mind. I thought about pressing it, and the tv came on.” She shook her head again, frustrated. “I don’t know how to explain any better…”</p><p>“You don’t have to,” I said quietly. I didn’t see where this story was leading, or what it had to do with me, but I wanted her to go on. She flashed me a grateful smile and continued.</p><p>“It was the same with everything I looked at in the room. I could <em>feel</em> things, in my head. Like I was connected to them. And I could just…” She gestured, and a pile of sand lifted into the air before us. The grains swirled, then rearranged themselves into a sandcastle… swirled again and became a vase of flowers…. dissolved and reformed into the shape of a woman holding a small child clutched to her breast… Melanie dropped her hand, and the image vanished, the sand fell into a heap at our feet.</p><p>“Pretty cool,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.</p><p>She smiled. “Yeah, it was. I guess I got a bit preoccupied, figuring out what I could do. It was so amazing, so… free. I wasn’t paying attention to the tv I’d turned on. If I had, I’d have realised they were showing a report on the wrecked hospital on the news. Along with my picture. And live footage from a helicopter showing armed police surrounding the hotel… but I was too busy floating stuff around. I only noticed when they started banging on my door, yelling at me to open up, come out with my hands in the air. You know how it goes.”</p><p>A dozen similar scenarios from my past flitted through my head. Yes, I knew exactly how it went.</p><p>“I nearly panicked all over again. Stuff in the room started to shake. But I couldn’t let it happen again, I couldn’t. Somehow, I… held it in. Somehow. But I was trapped, there was nowhere to go, a dozen armed police were going to burst through that door any second and I didn’t know what I would <em>do</em> to them when they did…” She blew out a long breath. “And then, as if things weren’t crazy enough, everything got weirder. The voices of the police changed, and they stopped banging on the door. Then the screaming and shouting started, in the room next door, outside in the street, beneath me from the lobby of the hotel. For a second I thought it was me, that I must have done something, even though I was holding it in as hard as I could. Then I realised the guy on the tv had stopped talking. Just stopped, in mid-sentence. I looked at the tv, and there was just the backdrop there, with the live feed in the corner with the view of the hotel, but no newsreader. Just a few ashes floating above the stand. I went to the window. People in the street were standing, some of them were running, yelling. But half of them were just… dissolving. Disappearing into ashes. Cars were smashing into each other, crashing into the houses along the street, because there was no-one at the wheel.”</p><p>“Thanos…” I whispered.</p><p>She nodded. “I felt… strange. I looked down at my hands, and they were starting to crumble. Like every cell had just decided to… go their separate ways.”</p><p>“You were one of the vanished?” I blurted out, stunned.</p><p>She rolled her eyes. “It was more complicated than that.”</p><p>I just stared at her, not understanding. The vanished just… vanished. Nothing left. No remains, no trace of their existence. It wasn’t complicated, it was heartbreakingly simple. Brutal, cruel, and utterly final.</p><p>Melanie held up a hand, forestalling any comment I could make. I realised my mouth was open and shut it, waiting for her to go on.</p><p>“Like I said, if things had got weird before, then this was a whole new level. I can’t explain what happened, what it felt like. I vanished. I was gone. Poof. But, somehow at the same time, I was still here.” She shook her head again in frustration, clearly struggling to find the right words. I found myself holding my breath.</p><p>“I guess my new powers had something to do with it, or maybe the fact that I knew something about micro-biology, I don’t know, but I felt every cell in my body… disperse. But I still felt a connection between them. And somehow I… held them together. Not physically together,” she added, forestalling my next question. “I tried, so many times, to put them all back together, to put my body back the way it had been. I couldn’t. But somehow my consciousness, my sense of self, my soul maybe… stayed present. Kept holding on to that connection between my cells, the atoms that had made up the cells… kept me from vanishing completely like the others. It took a long time to find myself.” She screwed up her face, trying to remember. “I don’t know how long I just…. existed. But eventually I managed to get control enough to get a sense of what was going on around me. I started to be able to… see and hear again, although those aren’t really the right words, as I didn’t have eyes or ears. I discovered I could move. Nothing like physically moving, but if I thought hard enough, I could… travel. I could change my location. I could see… everything. From the biggest building to the tiniest molecule. I saw people, followed them, watched them picking up the pieces of their lives. But I couldn’t make anyone see me or hear me. It was like I was a ghost. I was totally alone.”</p><p>She fell silent.</p><p>“That must have been terrifying,” I ventured after a moment. I thought back over the last five years, the black depression I had suffered, the many, many days I had wandered alone through the empty hallways of the Avenger’s facility. The hours I had spent in the training room, pushing myself until the sweat poured off me, until exhaustion brought a few moments blessed numbness from my grief… But I had not been completely alone. Steve, Rhodes, Tony and Pepper, Bruce, Carol. Okoye. Rocket and Nebula. They had all been around, shared the same pain. We all had different ways of dealing with it, but we shared it. I had not been alone. Not like Melanie.</p><p>She sighed. “Sometimes it was. Sometimes I felt like I had gone mad. Sometimes I didn’t feel anything at all.” She seemed to give herself a mental shake. “Anyway, after a while, I realised I could sense this strange… residual energy, is the only way I can describe it. A familiar wavelength. I recognised it. It was the energy that had hit me, that night in the lab. There were traces, echoes of it. The traces led away from Edinburgh, like a golden line stretching off into the distance. I was alone, I was desperate, I didn’t have any other ideas so,” the corners of her mouth twitched, “I followed the yellow brick road. I followed it a long way, for a long time, across the sea, until it brought me to a big white building.”</p><p>I felt my mouth drop open again. “The Avengers building?”</p><p>“Yes. Pretty hard to miss, what with ‘Avengers’ in huge writing on the side and the sci-fi jet parked outside. I could tell that the… entity, the being that had been bound to the energy I was following had spent time in that building. I followed it inside. But the source of the energy was gone.”</p><p>“Because Vision was dead,” I said, swallowing a lump in my throat. “The mind stone disappeared with Thanos.”</p><p>She nodded sadly. “Yes. I had hoped maybe someone who had access to that energy might be able to hear me, help me. When I realised it was the Avengers, that some of you had survived, I hoped maybe you could. But no matter what I tried, I couldn’t get any of you to see or hear me.” She smiled ruefully. “I think the best I managed was to make your lights flicker occasionally, but you never seemed to notice. But I had nowhere else to go, so I stayed. Followed you, listened to you talk, watched you work. At first, it was just desperation. I was terrified if I left even for a second, you would mention something important, something that might help me, and I would miss it. But as time went by… I gave up hope that I would ever get my body back again. But you were alone in that building so much, and I was alone, so I stayed… I stayed for you.”</p><p>Her blue eyes met mine, determined and yet almost timid, as though afraid I would react badly.</p><p>To be honest, I had no idea how to react. I had no clue how I felt on hearing that an invisible stalker had haunted my every move for… who knew how long. Months? <em>Years</em>? I opened my mouth to say something, realised I didn’t know what to say, and shut it again.</p><p>The silence got slightly awkward.</p><p>Melanie looked away and started talking again, quite fast, trying to cover up the uncomfortable moment.</p><p>“You were reasonably good company, all things considered. You spent a hell of a lot of time in the gym, but I guess that was your training, how you were used to handling things. Your diet was terrible though. I used to tell you off for that. All those hours burning calories, you needed more than two slices of bread and a scrape of Nutella. And the times you used to stare at the tv and keep flicking through all the channels and never actually watch anything, that nearly drove me crazy….”</p><p>Her voice trailed off again.</p><p>“So,” I said, still not sure how I was feeling, but determined to prevent another awkward silence. “I’m guessing you were still ghosting around when Scott Lang showed up, and we came up with the whole time-travel plan?”</p><p>She looked relieved that I seemed to be taking it so well.</p><p>“Yes I was there. Silent observer to the Avengers’ master fix-all plan. Or at least to you I was silent. I had quite a few comments to make, actually, but it was probably a good thing you didn’t hear them.” Her lips twitched again. “Not all my thoughts on the subject were constructive.”</p><p>I smiled. “You thought we were crazy.”</p><p>“No I thought the logic was pretty sound actually. I mean I’m not a physicist, but I know enough about quantum mechanics that I could follow the theory. And Stark’s machine, the Pym particles, the Hulk talking nuclear physics, it was all very impressive. Just insanely dangerous.”</p><p>“Yeah well, we’re the Avengers. We eat insanely dangerous for breakfast.”</p><p>“No, you <em>used</em> to eat insanely dangerous for breakfast,” Melanie interjected, shaking her finger at me like I was missing the obvious. “But most of you hadn’t run a serious mission for years. Ant man had been stuck in a warp hole. Stark had settled down to raise a family. Rogers had been running self-help groups for crying out loud. <em>You</em> hadn’t left that building for years, too busy trying to save the world from behind a desk. The only thing you’d been a danger to lately was a punchbag and a peanut butter sandwich. Thor was a total mess, and god knows what Banner had done to himself. The only ones that were still in fighting shape were a kleptomaniac racoon, a psychotic cyborg, a paralysed soldier in a tin suit, and Barton, and <em>he</em> was a homicidal killing machine with a stupid haircut.”</p><p>I opened my mouth to say something indignant, but she held up her hand.</p><p>“I’m sorry, that was harsh, but… you can see why I was worried. I was so afraid it was all going to go terribly wrong. And when they all appeared back on that platform, and you weren’t there… I knew I had been right.”</p><p>
  <em>Vormir. Clint’s anguished face above me, pleading with me. Falling, falling…. And then that moment of total calm, contentment, completion…</em>
</p><p>“It wouldn’t have made any difference,” I said gently. “What I did… it had to be done. It was the only way to get the soul stone. And I couldn’t let Clint do it. I couldn’t get his family back, and then tell them he was gone. It had to be me.”</p><p>“I know,” she said softly. She refused to meet my eyes. “The others were devastated… after. It was hard for them to accept. They tried to find a way around it, talked through a dozen scenarios where they used the stones to change it, bring you back. When Banner put the glove on, clicked his fingers to bring back the vanished, he tried to return you too. He told them, he tried. He couldn’t.”</p><p>Bruce. I suddenly missed him fiercely. It must have been so hard for him. Even though what was between us had never had a chance to develop into anything, even though his changes meant we were now physically incompatible, still there was a connection there.</p><p>“Bruce used the stones,” I marvelled. Then a sudden thought stopped me short. “But you said Tony –“</p><p>“Dr Banner used the glove first. It couldn’t kill him,” she said, and I felt a flood of relief, quickly suppressed by guilt as I remembered who had not been so lucky.</p><p>“Stark used it later, during the battle, to defeat Thanos at the end. Unfortunately his body was not as… robust… as Banner’s. He won, but at the cost of his own life.”</p><p>I tried not to think of Tony’s wife and daughter. Pepper must be desolate...</p><p>“So, Bruce brought back the vanished,” I said, trying to steer the conversation back into less turbulent waters. “So he must have brought you back too?” <em>And Wanda, and Sam, Bucky, T’Challa, and all the others…</em></p><p>“Yes,” she confirmed. She looked at her own hands. “You’ve no idea how weird it felt to have a body again, to have <em>hands</em>, to be able to <em>touch</em> things.”</p><p>“You must have given the guys a shock, appearing in their front room,” I tried to joke.</p><p>She shrugged. “They never knew I was there. I appeared in the gym. Before I had a chance to make it through the door, Thanos’ ship blew the building apart.” She looked sheepish. “I spent most of the battle trying to dig myself out of the rubble. And then hiding. I did manage to take out a few of those alien monster things with some chunks of masonry. Nothing very heroic, they found me, and I panicked. Amazing what fear of being torn to shreds does to you.”</p><p>“I know that feeling,” I agreed. “But still pretty impressive for a girl who’d spent five years as an atom.” I felt sudden intense frustration that I had missed this fight. Maybe, if I had been there, maybe I could have made the difference, and maybe Tony -</p><p>“You couldn’t have changed the outcome,” Melanie said. It was very disconcerting, the way she seemed to read my mind. Those years of observation had clearly made her an expert at analysing my every micro-expression.  “Their victory was only made possible by your sacrifice. Without you, they would not have had all six stones. Without all six, they couldn’t have brought back the vanished, and without their support in the battle, Thanos’ army would have won, and the universe as we know it would have ended.” She placed her hand over mine. “Your ledger is wiped clean.”</p><p>I felt numb. Hollow almost. I had spent so long trying to wipe out that red in my ledger, to make up for the monster I had been, all the while knowing, deep inside, that I never could. Yet Melanie was suggesting that I had, by sacrificing myself, finally evened the score. Was that even possible?  And if my quest for redemption was over… who was I now?</p><p>“How can that be,” I whispered, “if I am here, now? If my sacrifice was necessary to save the universe, then how can I be alive?”</p><p>She sighed. “Because of me. I couldn’t… accept it. I watched you for so long, I –“ She broke off, as if having second thoughts about what she had been about to say. She began again. “Afterwards, I started to realise my powers had… grown, while I had been… whatever I was. I couldn’t just move objects, I could <em>see </em>things, what they were made of, right down to their individual atoms. When they made the plan for Steve Rogers to make one last trip back in time to put all the stones back, I… ah… tagged along.”</p><p>I started to ask how on earth she had managed <em>that</em>, then changed my mind, impatient to hear the rest.</p><p>“I knew the plan was to put all the stones back <em>exactly</em> where they started. At the very moment they were removed. So I knew he had to go back to Vormir. To the moment that Barton had gotten the soul stone…”</p><p>“The moment right after I fell,” I said, my mouth going dry.</p><p>She nodded, still not looking at me.</p><p>“I went to Vormir. There was a man, a being there. In a dark cloak with a red skull for a face. He knew I was there, even though the Captain didn’t. When the Captain left, I stayed, and he spoke to me. He knew everything about me.”</p><p>“Even your father’s name.” I remembered. He had known my father’s name, even though I had not.</p><p>“He told me that he knew what I sought. That the stone could not undo your sacrifice. But in giving back the soul stone, a possibility could arise… that perhaps a bargain could be made, that I might be able to do what the stone could not. Though he warned me that I might succeed and still never gain what I sought….” She fell silent.</p><p>Typical. The red skull spoke in riddles.</p><p>“So, what happened then?” I asked.</p><p>“I’m not sure I can describe it,” she said slowly, frowning as though struggling to pin down a memory. “I think… he sent me somewhere. A place full of light and shining water. I can’t really remember too clearly, but I think I spoke to the stone. Or the stone spoke to me. It showed me things. Then all of a sudden, poof!” She snapped her fingers. “There was this blinding light and next thing I knew, I was here, lying on this beach. And you were lying next to me.”</p><p>I touched the sand at my side, sifted the grains through my fingers, wanting some physical sensation to ground me. Everything felt so unreal.</p><p>“So, the soul stone brought me back to life.” I said it like a statement of fact, yet I sensed this was not what had happened. The red skull had said the stone could not undo my sacrifice… but possibly <em>she</em> could…</p><p>Melanie flushed. “Not exactly.”</p><p>“Then <em>what</em>, exactly?” I snapped, losing patience. “You said I was lying next to you –“</p><p>“Your body was lying next to me,” she said with forced calm. Her blue eyes had a haunted look in them.</p><p>“You were dead.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. 3.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rehab is a bitch, and so is the weather.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you're enjoying this story so far. It does go somewhere I promise!<br/>Let me know if you like it, constructive criticism welcome.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>There was a long silence.</p><p>“Well,” I said eventually. I was pleased that I managed to keep my voice steady. “I guess I’m looking good for a corpse. I’m not going to start wanting to eat your brains am I?” I was only partially joking. The rest of me was surreptitiously scanning all visible body parts, anxious that any second my pink skin might start turning zombie pale and putrefied, or that a few fingers or toes might start dropping off.</p><p>Melanie rolled her eyes. “You have seen too many movies.”</p><p>“Yeah well, in my world, people coming back from the dead only happens in movies, and it never ends well.”</p><p>“That depends on your definition of death.”</p><p>I clamped down hard on the urge to throttle her. My training allowed me to stay calm, but I was reaching my limit – I was heading for a serious freak out.</p><p>Melanie seemed to sense the danger signs. “Look,” she continued hurriedly, “You’re not a zombie. A zombie is not brought back from the dead, a zombie is <em>un</em>dead. An animated dead body. You are alive.”</p><p>“How can I be alive if I was dead!”</p><p>“Well, like I said, it depends on your definition. Medically speaking, there’s a lot of different definitions of death. I mean, a long time ago it used to be that if you weren’t breathing, you were pronounced dead, but we know now that you can still be resuscitated for quite a long time after you stop breathing. If your heart stops, there’s a chance you can restart it, as long as the neurons in your brain haven’t started to die.”</p><p>“So, you’re saying you resuscitated me?”</p><p>She shook her head, wincing. “Not in the conventional sense, no. You hit solid rock after a two-hundred-foot fall. Your brain was pulp. No neurons firing, no way a defibrillator or CPR or any other device of modern medicine could have revived you.”</p><p>“Melanie, if you don’t get to the point I am going to change my mind about eating your brain,” I threatened.</p><p>“Your body was <em>clinically </em>dead. No neurons firing, <em>as a whole</em> the body cannot function. But on a microscopic level, your body is made up of trillions upon trillions of individual cells. Individually, your cells take a little more time to die. And thanks to Stark’s time machine, you had only been dead for a couple of minutes. So <em>most</em> of you, technically, on a <em>cellular</em> level was still alive. And like I said before, the way my powers work - I see things on a microscopic level. When I move things, I’m not moving the object as a whole, I’m moving every molecule, every individual atom that makes up that object, trillions of them, all at once. And back in my lab, I studied cells. The chemical reactions that trigger cell division. So I know how cells work. I figured if I could move atoms all together, then I could move individual atoms… rearrange molecules. If I could rearrange the molecules in your brain cells to trigger the reactions, speed up the process, get your remaining cells to divide and create new cells to replace the damaged ones, start your neurons firing again, rebuild your heart and lungs enough to function… <em>then</em> I could resuscitate you. Once your heart was beating, I used the same method to repair all the other damage. It took time, it took weeks. I had to do it in stages. Your body was so badly damaged. Forcing all those new cells to grow took massive amounts of chemical energy and you didn’t exactly have huge reserves of body fat. I kept having to… kind of put you in a coma state while I got enough nutrients into you to build up enough stored energy to carry on. I wasn’t sure if you would ever wake up, or what you would be like if you did. Sometimes I wondered if I had done the right thing, but by that point the only choice was to carry on and hope, or kill you again and bury you. So I just kept going. And hope that, if you woke up, you would forgive me.”</p><p>I gazed at her, dumbfounded. I tried to imagine what she must see when she looked at me, all those billions of cells working away. It made my head hurt.</p><p>“Forgive you?” I repeated. “Why would I need to forgive you for saving my life?”</p><p>“I <em>risked </em>your life,” Melanie corrected, avoiding my eyes. “I had no idea if this could work, or if you would be… yourself… if it did. I could have brought you back a vegetable, or a cripple, or insane. Even though you seem okay, I have no idea what kind of effect this kind of trauma could have on you, physically or psychologically. There is no medical precedent for this. I just hope that I haven’t given you back life, only for you to one day wish I hadn’t.” Her voice broke slightly at the last.</p><p>I considered that carefully.</p><p>“Well, so far, everything seems to be working, more or less,” I said slowly. “I still feel like me. My memories seem to be intact. I <em>really</em> want a peanut butter sandwich. I’m pretty sure I could still take someone out with this staff you gave me.” I forced a smile. “I guess we’ll have to wait for me to get a little stronger to see if I can still take down multiple targets barehanded like I used to, but if I can’t…” I thought about that, wondered what I would do. If I wasn’t the Black Widow, deadly assassin turned Avenger, who would I be? The thought frightened me, and I quickly dismissed it, not wanting to seem ungrateful. “I guess I’ll deal with that when it comes. If it comes to that.” I reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “Melanie, I really didn’t want to die. Willing to, for the mission, yes, but I didn’t <em>want</em> to die. I am happy you did what you did. Thank you.”</p><p>She smiled. Happiness lit up her face, shone through her eyes, which looked suspiciously wet. Then, as if recognising how near we were to a display of emotion we would both find uncomfortable, she dashed an impatient hand over her eyes and stood up.</p><p>“Well, now that we are caught up on important events, suppose we go see what I can rustle up in the kitchen? You need some serious feeding up if we’re going to get you back in the saving the world business.”</p><p>“I think I could eat a horse,” I admitted. The eggs and fruit already felt like a long time ago.</p><p>“Well I can’t offer you one of those, but there’s some kind of duck thing I caught earlier I can stick on the spit to roast. I’ve tried them before, they are pretty tasty,” she said, holding out her hand to help me to my feet.</p><p>“Sounds good.” Leaning on my staff, I followed her back into the open kitchen. “Anything I can do to help?”</p><p>She frowned at me. “Sit,” she said, pushing me towards the table. I sat, and she plonked the bowl of fruit in front of me. “Eat,” she urged. “I can get more. This bird won’t be ready for a while yet.” She pulled down the duck-like bird I had seen earlier from where it hung as she spoke. I opened my mouth to offer to help pluck it, then closed it again as she glanced down at it, and all the feathers simply fell out, forming a neat fluffy pile on the table top. Of course. I tried very hard to look as if I saw this sort of thing every day. Which of course I used to, in the old days. Wanda was also telekinetic after all, although as best I could judge, her powers seemed to work in a very different way to Melanie’s. I wondered if the similarities were due to the mind stone being incidental in giving them both their powers, or if it was just a coincidence.</p><p>“Can you read minds?” I asked her curiously, digging my nails into the skin of a fruit and starting to peel it.</p><p>“You mean like Wanda?” Melanie shook her head. Taking one of her clam-shell knives, she began to efficiently disembowel the bird.  “Not that I’ve noticed. Why?”</p><p>I shrugged. “I was just thinking that you two are similar, in some ways. You both move stuff around. And you both got your powers via the same infinity stone. Hydra used the mind stone to change the Maximoff twins, back when it was still part of Loki’s sceptre.” I studied the fruit in my hand morosely. “I hope she’s okay.”</p><p>“She’s pretty messed up,” Melanie said bluntly, thrusting the spit through the bird with admirable precision and setting it over the fireplace. She squinted down at the firewood and it crumbled into white hot embers below the spit, which began to turn itself. “Not that I blame her. No amount of finger clicking could bring Vision back. She just spent five years not existing, right after having to kill the love of her life, and then watch Thanos rewind time and kill him again. That would mess anyone up.”</p><p>I raised my head questioningly. “You’ve seen her?”</p><p>“Yes, I saw her,” Melanie said, sitting down at the table across from me and starting to chop some kind of root vegetable. “She fought in the battle, along with the rest. She had some serious aggression to let loose, she even had Thanos backing up for a minute, although I didn’t see much. Too busy avoiding alien monster teeth. But I must admit, her powers looked pretty impressive. All the witchy red light and everything.”</p><p>“They are impressive,” I admitted. “And you <em>really</em> don’t want her messing with your head. I remember, back when we first ran into her, she had us all hallucinating. Freaked everyone out big time, even Thor. She was barely more than a kid at the time.”</p><p>“Well she’s not a kid now,” Melanie observed. “She’s a powerful, beautiful, seriously traumatised young woman. I’m not sure where they took her after Tony Stark’s funeral, but I did hear Dr Banner say they were having to give her tranquilisers to stop her nightmares destroying everything in her room. Not to mention what other mind stuff must have been seeping over.”</p><p>I winced. Poor Wanda. I wished I could do something to help her. If the Avengers were my family, Wanda had become the younger sister I had never had. I wondered if I would ever see any of them again. I wondered if Clint had made it home to his family. I hoped he stood once again on his porch, arms around Laura, watching his kids play.</p><p>I sat there lost in thoughts of the past, with the faint stirrings of hope for the future. Melanie quietly bustled around the kitchen, making dinner. The birds called in the forest. A large green insect buzzed around my head, and I absently waved it away. The peace gradually settled into my soul.</p><p>We ate in companionable silence. By the time I had swallowed the last mouthful, my weakened state had reasserted itself. Though it couldn’t have been more than three hours since I had left my bed, I could barely keep my eyes open.</p><p>Melanie floated me back up to my room and helped me back into bed.</p><p>“Melanie,” I whispered before sleep overtook me. “Could you do me one favour?”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“Can you please build some freaking stairs?”</p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Time passed, and I grew stronger. I still slept a great deal, and ate like a starving lion, my body restoring the reserves of energy that had been depleted by my healing. Gradually I spent more time awake. The peaceful surroundings helped counteract the impatience I felt with my weakened state. I was sure if I had been back home the frustration would have had me hitting the gym far more than I should by now. That wasn’t really an option here. The day Melanie walked into my room and caught me trying to do press-ups, I barely had time to blink before I found myself back in bed, and she threatened to tie me down and leave me there.</p><p>“I did not go to all this effort for you to undo it by trying to do too much too soon,” she stated, blue eyes flashing. “You are still healing. Have patience.”</p><p>“Not really my strongest suit,” I retorted irritably.</p><p>She snorted. “Then take the opportunity to perfect the skill.” She wagged a finger at me. “No body building, not yet. Promise.”</p><p>Guiltily, I promised. To be honest with myself, I knew she was right. My attempt at press ups had been pathetic. A second later and Melanie would have walked in to me landing flat on my face. I hated my wasted, useless muscles. I yearned for the cat-like, easy strength I used to take for granted. How was I supposed to get that back if I couldn’t exercise?</p><p>Her face relaxed into a smile. “Tell you what,” she offered. “If you feel you really need to do something, how about we go for a swim?”</p><p> </p><p>****</p><p> </p><p>I had never been much of a swimmer, before. I could swim, of course, and swim well, it was part of my training. After all, an assassin often needed a quick exit, and into water was frequently the best option available. In my time I had swum through shipping marinas, reeking of oil and garbage; fought the current of rivers; even made my way through sewer systems. But I couldn’t remember ever taking pleasure in the activity, until now.</p><p>I floated in crystal clear water, under the sapphire sky, rising and falling gently with the swell of the waves. The sun heated the front of my body, the water kept my back deliciously cool. I flipped over and swam with a determined breast stroke, away from the beach. My eyes were on a small rocky outcrop that I designated as my target for today. Each day I tried to swim a little bit further, a little bit longer. My muscles were getting stronger. Melanie continued to push food on me at every opportunity, and my body was starting to fill out. I was starting to feel like, if I had a mirror, I might recognise myself. I had coaxed Melanie to cut my hair to a comfortable length just below my shoulders, shedding the last of the old blonde dye so it was now fully back to my own natural auburn.</p><p>“Nat!” came an urgent call from the beach.</p><p>I turned, treading water, to look back at Melanie, a tiny figure ankle deep in the surf, waving at me. I had swum out further than I had realised, lost in my thoughts.</p><p>“What?” I called.</p><p>“You need to get back. There’s a storm coming in,” she shouted back, pointing.</p><p>Startled, I glanced back out to sea. Sure enough, in my preoccupation I had missed the wall of black clouds boiling up on the horizon. Massive thunderheads towered to the heavens. I could see flashes of lightning. Even as I looked, I felt the breeze strengthen into a wind. The waves started to get choppy. There was a storm coming all right, and coming in faster than I would have thought possible.</p><p>I dived forward, breaking into front crawl, swimming as fast as I could for the beach. The daylight began to dim as the first clouds passed in front of the sun.</p><p>“Hurry!” Melanie yelled.</p><p>I tried to swim faster, but I was tiring quickly. I cursed my lack of stamina. Finally I was close enough for my feet to touch the bottom. I fought to get upright, staggering against the swell, the waves already past my waist. Melanie came splashing out to meet me, catching my arm as I struggled to keep my footing. Together we made it back to dry land and staggered back to the cabin.</p><p>I sank onto the sofa, gasping for breath. She cast me a quick, concerned look before hurrying to pull out the bamboo screens she had made to block out the elements when the weather was bad. It rained fairly frequently here I had discovered; short bursts of torrential downpour that made it look like we were in the midst of a waterfall, that would last for an hour or two and then sweep off as abruptly as they came. But this was the first sign of more serious weather, and I found myself doubting the screens would be enough. The wind was already strengthening to a gale, trying to whip it out of her hands.</p><p>Pushing aside my fatigue, I lurched to my feet and grabbed for it. The wind fought us, but between us we managed to pull it across and tie it down. The last of the daylight vanished as though someone had flicked a switch. Thunder boomed as Melanie struggled towards the second screen. Some flash of instinct warned me, and I dived, tackling her to the ground just as lightning struck the tree that formed the pillar support for the roof. A branch the size of a pickup truck smashed down through the rafters, landing with a splintering crash scant inches from my face, obliterating the section of floor my tackle had prevented Melanie from crossing.</p><p>Melanie looked at me, eyes wild, pupils dilated with terror. “Thanks!”</p><p>“Thank me later,” I gasped. “We need cover!” The gale had become a full-fledged hurricane, howling through the tree branches above like an army of demons.</p><p>Another flash of lightning and thunder boomed, making me see stars and drowning out her reply. I tugged her sleeve and pointed to the solid plank table. Not ideal, but the best we were going to get. She nodded, and we started crawling, even as the bamboo screen was ripped from its moorings. The wind screamed in. Pots, plates, knives, everything was torn from their shelves, hitting the floor around us like missiles. A heavy clay bowl suddenly came spinning out of nowhere and smashed Melanie over the head, knocking her back into my arms along with sharp daggers of scattering pottery. I held on to her grimly while she put a hand to her forehead. Her fingers came away bloody. I shook her in alarm. “Don’t pass out on me now,” I yelled. Her jaw clenched. The table screeched across the floorboards towards us, then slammed itself tight against the wall in the corner. I dragged Melanie underneath it. Her eyes unfocussed, and the corner sofa barged across the room, surrounding the table like a cocoon, just as the roof fell in with an almighty crash.</p><p>“Mel!” I shouted over the hideous sounds of debris piling above us, clutching her to my chest. “Mel, are you alright? Speak to me!”</p><p>I couldn’t hear her reply, but I felt her lips form words, felt her arms tighten around my waist.</p><p>We lay curled up together, holding each other tight, in our little bubble in the darkness, while the storm raged around us like fury incarnate, and the home Melanie had built collapsed around our ears.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. 4.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Too many questions and not enough answers, and Melanie manages to get Natasha on her back. All in all, this day is not going the way Natasha expected.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The monkey stared at me intently, not blinking. I glared back. Our disputed prize, a ripe, juicy fruit, hung suspended from a twig between us.</p><p>“Sorry fella,” I told the primate. “This one’s mine.” My hand flashed out, snatched the fruit. The monkey set up a howl, dancing up and down in frustration, shaking the branch on which I perched. “Hey,” I snapped. “Easy. Look around. There’s plenty for both of us. Go get your own.” I tucked the disputed fruit into the bag at my side, and scooted a little further along the branch, reaching for the next one.</p><p>Behind me, the monkey blew a loud raspberry.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, I’m a bitch, I know,” I said. “So sue me already.”</p><p>The monkey leapt over my head to a higher branch, sat down and began licking his privates.</p><p>My lips twitched in an amused smile. “Guess that told me.”</p><p>I worked my way back towards the trunk of the tree, stripping fruit as I went. The bag full, I paused a moment, hooking my arms around another branch and resting my chin on the warm, smooth bark.</p><p>The full moon had come and gone three times since the hurricane that had nearly killed us. Once the storm had blown itself out, we had dug our way out of the rubble and stood in the wreckage of our home. There wasn’t a single wall left standing.</p><p>Apart from a few cuts and a lot of bruises, I was relatively unscathed, but Melanie could barely stand. She swayed on her feet like a drunkard, dried blood staining one side of her face from the jagged gash on her forehead. Her eyes were struggling to focus, and I recognised the signs of concussion, before they rolled up into her head and she collapsed.</p><p>I dragged pieces of debris into a rough shelter, using the battered table for support. Ripped chunks from the ruined sofa to form as soft a nest as possible and laid her down in it. With strips torn from my shirt, I had washed the blood from her face with seawater, and with another strip, bandaged her head. Then, her head cradled in my lap, I had sat silent watch for the longest day I could remember, until eventually she awoke.</p><p>The flood of relief that had filled me when she had finally stirred was more intense than anything I had ever felt. At least until she vomited all over my knee.</p><p>For a few days, our roles were reversed, as she stubbornly tried to do things for herself and I forced her to rest. I wouldn’t let her use her powers, insisting she needed the energy to get better. She called me a tyrant. I told her it was a taste of her own medicine.</p><p>Sorting through the debris for anything useful, I discovered a surprise – my black Avenger jumpsuit, the suit I had been wearing on Vormir, half-buried in mud and leaves. Wrapped in the bundle were my weapons, a handgun, two throwing knives, utility belt, my shock devices.</p><p>I had dumped the bundle in front of Melanie and demanded to know why the hell she had been using broken shells as knives when there were two perfectly good ones right there.</p><p>She had laughed weakly and said she hadn’t wanted to find out what I would do to her had I discovered her using my weapons to chop vegetables.</p><p>I told her she was an idiot, and promptly drove home the point by using the gun to shoot down the first large bird I saw, and one of the knives to butcher it. There was just enough juice remaining in the shock devices to start a fire to cook it.</p><p>Melanie protested that I shouldn’t have wasted ammunition.</p><p>I told her to shut up and eat.</p><p>Our relationship changed over that time as she recovered, then as we worked together to build a new cabin from the remains of the old one. The first thing I had Melanie make when she was fit enough was a storm cellar, gouging an underground room out of the solid rock, with more than one exit. We had learned our lesson. We were never going to be caught unprepared again. We had spent several nights in there already as more storms swept in from the sea, though thankfully none were as severe as the first.</p><p>I had berated myself for allowing my own weakness and the miracles Melanie’s powers had produced to lull me into complacency. She wasn’t all powerful, or omniscient. Her powers were amazing, but they couldn’t fix everything. Oddly, this evidence of her vulnerability actually made her more likable, more human. Before she had been like an untouchable goddess, very much in control, and I had felt about as much use as a walking stick to a fish. Now, it became clear that she needed me as much as I needed her, and with that shift to equality, I felt much of my former confidence returning. The hours of manual labour as we rebuilt our home and explored the island, foraging for food, strengthened my muscles, and my mood lifted with my growing stamina.</p><p>I smiled to myself now and, dropping off the branch, hung by my hands for a moment before doing a few pull ups.</p><p>Frowning in concentration, I pulled myself up above the branch, tucked my head and pulled my knees into my chest. Fighting for balance, I slowly straightened my legs up into the air, until I was doing a close-to-perfect handstand in the tree. The bag of fruit hung down below me, the strap irritating my face.</p><p>“Don’t drop the food,” Melanie’s voice rang out cheerfully somewhere nearby. “That’s our dinner.”</p><p>Startled, I wobbled wildly, then caught myself and lowered my body back to my seat on the first branch.</p><p>I glared at Melanie, who sat in a tree a few feet away, swinging her legs innocently. I hadn’t heard her approaching. Much to my surprise, I had discovered that Melanie could climb nearly as well as the monkeys that shared our forest, with a confidence clearly gained long before our ostracism. I pointed out that this was not usually within the skill set of a biochemical scientist. She had laughed and told me she had been a keen rock climber since her early teens. Although she also confessed her confidence had grown by leaps and bounds now that she no longer feared falling. Maybe she couldn’t do handstands in trees, but she could scamper up a sheer rock face with a speed and ease that I found enviable. It had become a little game between us, me slowly showing off my gymnastic skills as I regained them, her flaunting her climbing abilities by popping up unexpectedly on the cliffs or in the trees while I foraged.</p><p>She grinned at me now as I bit back an exasperated comment, then relaxed and smiled back.</p><p>“I’m not going to drop <em>my</em> dinner,” I told her. “But I’m considering giving your share to the monkey.”</p><p>She laughed. “Snuck up on you again, huh?”</p><p>“You probably shouldn’t do that. You do realise people who used to sneak up on me before tended to end up with a third nostril.”</p><p>Melanie shrugged. “Well you haven’t killed me yet. Either you’ve lost your touch, or I’m just better at sneaking than they were,” she taunted playfully.</p><p>I pulled a face at her, then let myself fall backwards. Tucking my knees, I performed a neat somersault and landed lightly on my feet on the ground. Not a single fruit spilled.</p><p>“Show off,” Melanie called. I smiled smugly as I watched her climb nimbly down. She could have floated down as lightly as a feather, but she refused to use her powers for climbing, saying that took all the fun out of it.</p><p>“So,” I said, as we walked companionably back to the cabin. “I brought dessert. What did you get for the main course?”</p><p>She smiled. “I’ve been fishing.”</p><p>Sure enough, when we reached our home, there was a bucket of water standing in the shade with two large blue-grey fish in it. We cooked them the way I had learned from an old fisherman on a mission in Vietnam, smothering them in wet clay and placing them in the hot embers of the fire. When you broke the hardened clay ball apart, it pulled off the scaly skin with it, exposing the steaming flesh. With a pinch of salt that Melanie extracted from sea water, crispy greens stir fried in coconut milk, and the sweet fruit for afters, I had eaten many far worse meals in my time.</p><p>After dinner, we made our daily evening ritual of notching a line in the face of a smooth rock not far from the cabin. Tonight it was my turn. I picked up the sharp clam shell and examined the most recent four notches briefly, before scraping a line across them like the cross bar of a gate to complete the set of five. Though I knew exactly how many lines were there, I counted the sets. Thirty-six. One hundred and eighty days in total. Almost six months since the day I had died.</p><p>“How old are you, Nat?” Melanie asked suddenly.</p><p>I glanced at her, surprised by the question, coming as it did out of the blue. I found myself at a loss for an answer. How old was I?</p><p>“You don’t know do you?”</p><p>I was silent. I could count the years I had been with Shield and the Avengers, but before that… well, I didn’t like to dwell on memories of my distant past. “We didn’t really celebrate birthdays in the Red Room,” I said eventually. “I was very young when I was taken in. A child. Five or six maybe. I don’t remember.”</p><p>“But how long ago was that? How long were you there? How long were you an assassin before you joined Shield?”</p><p>“I… don’t know.” This turn of conversation was making me very uncomfortable. “Does it matter?”</p><p>Melanie bit her lip. “I’ve been thinking a lot. About what we might find, when we get back. You think you know where we are.”</p><p>Once I had seen the stars here at night I had recognised enough constellations to confirm that Melanie’s guess that we were somewhere deep in Earth’s southern pacific was probably accurate. After many long discussions, sketches in the dirt and much trial and error, she had managed to create some basic tools with which I could take measurements. I had spent every clear night since gazing at the sky, tracking various constellations across the heavens, and I had come up with a rough longitude and latitude for our position. Relying on my memory of navigation charts I had seen in the past, I found myself hoping my calculations were wrong, because if I was right, we were about as far from land as we could possibly be on this planet, smack bang in the middle of the largest ocean on Earth.</p><p>“I was thinking, we know <em>where</em> we are,” Melanie continued. “But… we don’t know <em>when</em>.”</p><p>“What do you mean, when?” I asked, puzzled. Then understanding dawned on me. “You think we could have been moved in time as well as space?”</p><p>Melanie nodded. “I mean, it’s just a theory,” she said hastily. “I could be totally over-thinking this. But logically, travelling through space also involves travelling through time. Vormir is light years away from this planet. To get there in linear time would take hundreds of human lifetimes. You got there in a few hours. And we were zapped back <em>here</em> in a few seconds. So to move us back here through space, we must have also been moved through time. We could have arrived back a day after we left, or ten years after. Or we could have been sent back <em>before</em> we left. Maybe even before we were born. Which was what made me wonder how far back that might be…”</p><p>I frowned. “What are you talking about?”</p><p>She looked uncomfortable. “Well… look Nat, don’t freak out okay, but, while I was… putting you back together… I noticed something a bit… strange… about your cells.”</p><p>“I imagine dying would do strange things to anybody’s cells,” I snapped.</p><p>She refused to be drawn, ploughing resolutely on. “Your cell cycle was… different. Normal human cells have a lifespan, a cycle of division, growth and death. Yours have the same cycle but their lifespan was… is… a lot longer than normal. A <em>lot</em> longer.”</p><p>I narrowed my eyes at her. “What are you saying?”</p><p>She winced. “I mean it’s not a bad thing. It definitely made the difference between life and death for you. I don’t know if I would have had enough time to do what I had to do to save you otherwise. But, ah, essentially, your body doesn’t age at a normal rate. So you feasibly could be… quite a lot older than you look.”</p><p>Huh. I looked down at my hands. Tanned from the sun, tough calluses on the fingers from working with weapons from an early age… but young hands. The hands of a woman in her twenties at most, I realised with a sudden pang of disquiet. Which was of course totally impossible. How old are they really? I wondered.</p><p>I looked back at Melanie, unable to articulate my thoughts.</p><p>“I don’t think you were born that way,” she said, answering one of my questions at least. “From some of the molecules still present in your cells, if I had to guess I would say the cause was chemical in nature. And from what you’ve told me about Captain Rogers and his friend Bucky, about how they were changed by chemical serums, I think it’s quite possible that something similar was done to you. Not as extreme as Rogers,” she added hurriedly. “But definitely something that would slow the aging process, make your body stronger, your reflexes faster, that sort of thing.”</p><p>A memory abruptly swam before my mind’s eye. <em>A bearded doctor in a white coat with cold, grey eyes. Fingers dispassionately poking and prodding my naked body. Injections that burned like liquid fire was being pumped beneath my skin. </em></p><p>“The Red Room,” I heard myself say. “There was a doctor… They gave me injections. I don’t remember how long for exactly. I think it was a long time.”</p><p>I looked at my forearms, disturbed by a faint after-image of long needles embedded in my skin. I blinked, and the vision vanished, leaving a bad taste in my mouth. I had never accessed that memory before… I wondered what other hidden nasties lay submerged in my subconscious, what other atrocities had been forced upon me by my creators, who knew how long ago…</p><p>She squeezed my hand gently. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re still you. We always knew you were special. And it’s not like you’re alone in the super-soldier serum club right?”</p><p>“Right,” I said shakily. I shook my head. “After Steve, there were a lot of attempts to recreate that serum over the years. So many I doubt we know about all of them. Or even half of them. Even Bruce was trying to recreate the serum. He thought gamma radiation might be the key.” I grimaced. “That didn’t turn out so well for him. But I guess it’s not so surprising that the Red Room came up with their own version.” I looked back at Melanie, deeply troubled. “What’s disturbing is how I could forget something like that.”</p><p>“Not that surprising when you think about it,” she said comfortingly. “I mean, it was in their interests to try and make sure you forgot about it. What if you turned on them and sold the information to the other side?” She smiled crookedly. “Which, let’s face it, you did. The Russians wouldn’t want the world knowing they were trying to create super soldier assassins. The serum could have contained some sort of amnesiac. They could have brainwashed you, like Bucky. Or the experience could have simply been so traumatic your mind blocked it out. There’s a lot of possible reasons why you don’t remember.”</p><p>“Yeah…”</p><p>I shivered, wrapped my arms around myself. Tried to steer the conversation back to something I could deal with. “So how do we figure out what time zone we’ve been dumped in?”</p><p>Melanie shrugged. “Until we get back to civilisation, there’s no way to know. I mean the stars, the animals here mostly match what we expect, so we know we’re not <em>eons</em> out of sync. But we could still be anywhere within a century or so. And without Stark’s time travel machine, there’s no way for us to change it. Whenever we are, this is where we are stuck. I just thought we should be prepared, mentally, for the possibility that we could be somewhere along our own timeline.”</p><p>I grimaced. Time travel had sounded so wonderful. I was not having a great experience with it.</p><p>“Okay. Well I have a headache, so call me prepared. It doesn’t change anything. We still need to figure out a way off this rock.”</p><p>She looked away without comment. Melanie was uncomfortable with the subject of leaving the island. I knew only her curiosity about my age had prompted her to bring up the topic at all. Previously, though it took me a while to realise it, she had been avoiding the conversation altogether. Whether that was through some feeling of guilt that it was her actions that had stranded us here, or worry about whatever she had left behind, or something else entirely, I didn’t know. To be honest, the question had only occurred to <em>me</em> a few weeks previously. Up until that point, I was so focussed on my rehabilitation that I hadn’t raised the subject before, perhaps just assuming that once we were ready, Melanie would carry us back to civilisation. Or perhaps I just hadn’t wanted to think about why she hadn’t done that already.</p><p>Though she seemed understanding of my longing to go home, my yearning to be reunited with my friends, I sensed that she didn’t particularly share it. The thought of being stranded here forever, just the two of us, didn’t seem to disturb her as much as it did me, although I supposed if it came to that, there were worse fates. Melanie made an interesting companion, intelligent and well-educated, with a very dry sense of humour, and a merry laugh that rang out more and more often as she acclimatised to company after so many years of ghostly, invisible existence. I got the distinct impression, however, that even before that experience she had been a typically reclusive academic, accustomed to spending large portions of time alone in her lab with her research. She frequently vanished into the forest for hours at a time, which didn’t worry me unduly, as I also had moods where I craved solitude. If she was gone too long, however, I found myself becoming anxious, and I would go in search of her, often finding her frowning into space, deep in thought; or else absorbed in studying some bizarre plant or creature with the glass lenses she had forged from melted sand. She complained frequently that she couldn’t get the clarity required to recreate the microscopes she had left behind in her lab, though that didn’t stop her from trying. I took great pleasure in teasing her out of her absorption, prompting her blue eyes to lose their intensity and fill with laughter instead, and her smiles to smooth the frown lines from her brow. Her complex personality was a fascinating enigma to me. It was certainly impossible to be bored with her around. Every time I thought I had her figured out, she would surprise me again. The isolation, months of enforced contact, and her uncanny, intuitive understanding of my every mood, seemed to breach a barrier around my inner self that no-one, not even Clint or Steve or Bruce, had thus far managed to penetrate. I felt closer to her than I ever had to any other living being, and if I <em>had</em> to be stranded on an island for the rest of my life, well, I couldn’t have chosen a better person to be marooned with. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to do everything in my power to avoid that fate.</p><p>The problem was, we were over a thousand miles from anywhere. There was no way Melanie could carry us that far. I had come to appreciate, watching her day after day, how much using her powers took out of her. Long before we reached land, she would be completely exhausted, and we would be dropped in the middle of the open ocean. Not a good plan.</p><p>We had neither seen nor heard any sign of human activity in all the time we had been here, not a plane or a ship, and though we had made the obligatory SOS signal, it seemed pretty much pointless. No one was ever going to come near enough to see it.</p><p>I had thought about making a radio. If I disassembled the various accessories in my suit and weapons I would have enough parts to cobble something together that <em>might</em> work, although whether it could produce a signal strong enough to reach civilisation was another thing entirely, even if I figured out a way to power it. However, that raised the question of even if I succeeded, who would receive it? The best I could come up with was to send out generic Morse code, but with both of us officially dead no-one we knew would be listening. Even if someone out there did pick up the signal, we didn’t know who we might end up being rescued by, whose debt we might end up in. Not to mention how we were going to explain how we had come to need rescuing in the first place. Melanie had some elaborate fears about ending up in the hands of the kind of people who might show up in response to a random radio signal, and I couldn’t argue that her fears were misplaced. So being rescued was probably out.</p><p>Building some kind of flying contraption robust enough to go the distance was also out. We just didn’t have the materials to make the parts we needed, and Melanie didn’t have the technical knowledge to create something like that. My knowledge of vehicles didn’t run to complex engineering – sure I could pilot anything with wheels or wings, but I couldn’t tell her every individual component of the machinery and how it all worked. Even if we could make some kind of engine, how would we fuel it? And if we made something without a means of propulsion – a hot air balloon having been another suggestion – we would be at the mercy of the weather, which considering the violent and unpredictable storms that seemed to frequent this corner of the world, didn’t seem like the best idea.</p><p>We could of course build a boat and sail out of here. But we were so very, very far from civilisation that it could take weeks to reach land, even if Melanie used her powers to speed things along. Which presented a whole myriad of problems – how we would navigate, what we would do if a storm came up. Water would be no problem, Melanie could remove the salt from sea water to make it safe to drink, but food was an issue. We could only carry so much, and we had limited options to prevent spoilage. Melanie told me about some movie she had seen once where sailors had been adrift in the pacific for months and had ended up eating each other. There were a few quips I could have made in response to that, but I kept my mouth shut. The idea was too frightening even to joke about.</p><p>It was all just so complicated. I sometimes longed for the relative simplicity of past days, where I just had to shoot my target before he shot me. And now apparently, even if we got back to civilization, we might be walking into to a world before I was born. And I didn’t even know when that was.</p><p>Suddenly I couldn’t sit there any longer. Too much talking, too much thinking. I needed action. I stalked back to the cabin. Grabbed my staff, the same staff Melanie had made me that first day I left my bed. Taking a stance on the beach, I closed my eyes, shutting out the sun that was starting to stain the sky scarlet and gold as it sank towards the sea. Concentrated on slowing my breathing. Then I began to move, twirling the staff around my body. My mind’s eye conjured a battalion of assailants, coming at me from all sides. Kick. Spin. Swipe with the staff. Duck. Jab behind. Leap. The staff twirled in lethal patterns, faster and faster. I breathed deeply, felt the pounding of my own heartbeat in my ears. This was how it was supposed to be. The fight was where I felt calm, in control. No need to think, only act. Kill my enemy. Don’t let them kill me. Swipe left. Swipe right. Kick. Dodge. Leap. I felt sweat starting to bead at my temples, drip down my back. Finally I leaped and landed on one knee, thrusting the staff forward, skewering the last imaginary foe. I stayed there, breathing hard, as the vision slowly faded, and I was once more on a sandy beach, the sun a sliver of red drowning in the navy-blue horizon.</p><p>“Feel better?”</p><p>Melanie leaned against a palm tree a prudent distance away, watching me quizzically, a faint worry line creasing her brow.</p><p>I slowly rose to my feet. I realised my hands were clenched so tightly on the staff my knuckles were white. I relaxed them with an effort, and shrugged. “A little.”</p><p>“How many evil monsters did you slay?” she asked jokingly. Concern was still plain in her eyes.</p><p>I laughed bitterly. “Hundreds. It’s easy to kill things that aren’t there.” I flexed my fingers, curled them into a fist. I still felt restless, unsatisfied. My fists wanted to connect with something. “I’d give anything for my old punchbag right now.”</p><p>“Well,” Melanie drawled. She pushed away from the tree and crossed to stand in front of me. She put up her fists, dancing back and forth on the balls of her feet. “My brother used to say I was a great substitute for a punchbag. Come on. Take your best shot.”</p><p>I looked at her sceptically in the red light of the setting sun. Her stance was terrible, the way she held her fists all wrong.</p><p>“I’m not going to hit you,” I said, starting to turn away.</p><p>The staff whipped out of my hand and twanged upright in mid-air as though I had stepped on a rake, and I walked smack into it.</p><p>“Who says you’re going to get the chance,” Melanie drawled, grinning.</p><p>I rubbed my nose. “Ow,” I said pointedly, glaring at her.</p><p>She just grinned, made a cocky little ‘bring it on’ motion with both hands.</p><p>I grabbed the staff and turned back to face her, spinning it through my fingers. “This is a terrible idea,” I warned her.</p><p>Her eyes twinkled. “You’re just afraid I’ll win.”</p><p>“In your dreams,” I scoffed. I lowered into a crouch. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” she laughed. “Come on Black Widow. Let’s see your moves.”</p><p>Well if this was how she wanted it…</p><p>I lunged low, swinging the staff in a circle parallel to the ground, taking her legs out from under her. She collapsed to the sand with a surprised “whooof”.</p><p>I started to back off when she looked up. Her eyes unfocused, and then an invisible force smacked me in the back of the knees, landing me in the sand right next to her. I rolled to my feet. Two feet away, she did the same. She put up her fists again, whooping a mad, exhilarated laugh. I smiled. Lunged again, grabbed her wrist as she tried, too slowly, to dodge to one side. Spun her like a dancer under her own arm and pulled her tightly against my chest. She struggled, shoulders heaving, but she didn’t have the self-defence training to know how to break my hold.</p><p>“What was that about winning?” I whispered in her ear.</p><p>She pulled a face. “Just you wait,” she vowed.</p><p>The sand beneath my feet suddenly shifted. A yellow cloud rose into the air and began swirling around us like a miniature tornado. Startled, I staggered as I tried to regain my footing, and lost my grip on her wrist. The ground slid out from under me like a rug had been pulled, and once more I was flat on my back, all the wind knocked out of me. The sand devil gave a last swirl and drifted back to earth.</p><p>I looked up to find Melanie standing over me, staff held like a spear, pointed at my throat.</p><p>“What was that about winning?” she repeated gleefully.</p><p>I growled. Swiping the staff aside with my forearm, I rolled up onto the balls of my feet and pounced, bowling her over. I straddled her, pinning her hands in the sand beside her head. She gazed up at me, breathing hard, her face flushed, a strange, intense look crossing her face. The universe suddenly seemed to hold its breath. As I stared into those incredible blue eyes I became acutely aware of the feel of her body between my legs, the rise and fall of her breasts with her breathing, the bones and tendons of her slender wrists beneath my palms. Her eyes held me as though chaining me in place. I could count every eyelash…</p><p>Abruptly I rolled off her and came to my feet. I offered her my hand and she took it, a confused, somewhat guarded expression on her face, as I pulled her up. I avoided meeting her eyes. Confusion and a jumble of strong emotions churned within me. I couldn’t begin to make sense of it.</p><p>“You’re not bad,” I said lightly. “You could use some training before you head into an actual combat situation, but you’re not bad for a beginner.”</p><p>I knew she was rolling her eyes without looking. “Thanks, oh mighty avenging sergeant major sir!” she said sarcastically. An odd note in her voice made me glance sharply at her. She seemed… a little upset. Anxious. As if afraid she had done something wrong.</p><p>I shook myself mentally and smiled at her, and after a moment she smiled back. The strange tension eased.</p><p>“Maybe you could give me a few lessons,” she suggested. “I can’t say I fancy <em>volunteering</em> for one of those combat situations you seem so fond of getting yourself into, but you never know…”</p><p>I nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah. You never know.” Combat situations had a habit of turning up around people with powers. Distressingly often. I had a sudden vision of Melanie, surrounded, fighting desperately for her life. “I’ll teach you,” I promised. I exhaled sharply, releasing the last of the tension. “But not now. I think I’m done for today.” I headed back towards the cabin. “I could murder a drink,” I said longingly. So far our attempts to ferment fruit to create an alcoholic beverage had produced only vile-smelling sludge.</p><p>“A glass of wine would be amazing right now,” Melanie agreed, falling into step beside me.</p><p>“I was thinking Vodka.”</p><p>“With coke?”</p><p>“Nah. Straight shot.”</p><p>“You are <em>so</em> Russian.”</p><p>We built up the fire outside the cabin and sat beside it as the sky gradually turned from deep blue, to navy, to black, and the first stars began to appear.</p><p>Melanie sang an old David Bowie song under her breath. She could hold a tune better than most, and her voice was soothing after the turmoil of the last few hours. I listened contentedly, occasionally humming along, although I had no delusions as to my own singing abilities.</p><p>Melanie sang old songs, and I hummed, and the fire blew glowing bits of ash up into the velvety black sky, as we watched the moon rise.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay, I know, I know, Natasha alone would probably have found a way of the island by now, but go with me on this. Its all important to the story. And yes, I know, that's not how you wanted Melanie to get Natasha on her back. Sorry, but you'll just have to be patient ;)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. 5.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A self-defense lesson, and a lot of spoiled fruit.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay, I've never had a self-defense lesson in my life so I shamelessly stole this from Miss Congeniality. If its awful please forgive me.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Sing,” I said firmly.</p><p>I looked over my shoulder at Melanie, who stood at my back with a dubious expression.</p><p>“SING,” I repeated. “The most basic formula of self-defence.”</p><p>“Your voice isn’t <em>that</em> bad, Nat.”</p><p>I smacked her. “Seriously. Pay attention. If you’re attacked from behind, you need to think S.I.N.G. Solar plexus,” I mimed a backwards elbow to the chest. “Instep.” I stamped next to her foot. “Nose.” A sharp thrust towards the face. “Groin.” I spun around to deliver a knee to her groin. I stepped away, gesturing for her to take up my former position. “You try.”</p><p>“What if my attacker is a woman?” she asked, stepping forward.</p><p>“Statistically far less likely.”</p><p>“Yeah, but what if?”</p><p>“Go for the eye socket. Shove your fingers right in there, curl them round and pop her eye out.”</p><p>“Oh gross,” Melanie moaned. “Now there’s a mental picture I really didn’t need in my head.”</p><p>“Concentrate, or you’ll be on the floor again.”</p><p>“Like that’s not going to happen anyway,” she grumbled, but I felt her tense in readiness.</p><p>Moving behind her, I made a grab. Her elbow caught me in the solar plexus with a credible amount of force. Her foot stamped on mine. I twisted and her thrust towards my face missed. Her feet tangled together as she tried to spin to raise her knee and she tripped, sprawling face-first into my arms.</p><p>“You’re supposed to hit them, not hug them,” I teased.</p><p>She pushed me away and rolled her eyes, brushing stray wisps of hair back from her face. “Very funny.”</p><p>“Again. Remember your stance, keep your core tight, like I showed you. Find your centre of balance.”</p><p>She sighed, but obediently took up position again on the mat.</p><p>We had improvised a training space in a clearing with mats made from cloth stuffed with moss, after Melanie complained that her bruises were beginning to have bruises.</p><p>Cloth, Melanie told me, was fairly easy to create with the abundant raw materials at hand and the molecular make-up of her own clothing like a pattern to follow. Basic linen thread apparently had a relatively simple molecular structure, and once she had made thread, it was child’s play for her powers to weave it into cloth. She could do it faster than my eyes could follow. It was how she had made the sofa, the beds, the curtains, clothes for herself and for me. It was the same with rope, string, anything that could be derived from natural sources. She hadn’t had much practice with synthetic substances, lacking the raw materials. Cloth pads weren’t nearly as good as vinyl for grip, but at least they were softer to fall on than solid ground. I had improvised some parallel bars with bamboo; some ropes; rocks of various sizes formed weights; and a cloth bag filled with moss and sand formed an adequate punchbag, hanging from a tree branch. Training gave us something to do, and the familiar activity made me feel better about our continued isolation.</p><p>We ran through the exercise a few more times, with similar results, much to Melanie’s frustration.</p><p>“You’re holding back,” I scolded, as she hesitated slightly and her thrust towards my nose went wide again. I pushed her away.</p><p>“Well, I don’t want to actually break your nose!” she protested. She was breathing hard, her chest heaving from the exertion.</p><p>I laughed. “Mel, you hot-wired my brain and rebuilt my body. I think you could probably fix a broken nose.”</p><p>She rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the flowers.” She rubbed her arm, flexing her fingers. “Can we take a breather?”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>She sank to the mat, relieved, and flopped onto her back, limbs splayed out like a starfish.</p><p>Chuckling, I laid down beside her and crossed my arms behind my head, gazing up at the sky. There was a fair bit of cloud around today, with enough patches of blue sky that the light dimmed and brightened at irregular intervals, as the sun disappeared and reappeared. I watched the clouds drift dreamily across the sky.</p><p>“Cat,” Melanie said.</p><p>“Where?”</p><p>“There.” She pointed upwards, tracing a shape with her finger. “There’s the ears, and the whiskers, and its tail…”</p><p>I smiled and pointed out a cloud shape of my own. “Well I see a crocodile. See, there’s the eyes, and the jaw. It’s going to have your cat for lunch.”</p><p>“It will have to catch my cat first.”</p><p>We often played silly games like this. Though I would have scorned this kind of nonsense back home, here it felt… kind of nice. Like taking back a little piece of the childhood I had missed out on.</p><p>We fell silent, resting in contented silence.</p><p>“Mel?” I ventured after a while.</p><p>“Mmmmm?”</p><p>“Do you ever think about, what you’ll do when we get back home? I mean, if by some miracle we don’t find ourselves in the middle ages or whatever?”</p><p>She didn’t answer.</p><p>I rolled up onto my elbow to look down at her. “Mel?”</p><p>She wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I hadn’t really thought about it,” she said. I could tell she was lying. She had thought about it, she just didn’t want to. I couldn’t fathom this reluctance, and it bothered me.</p><p>“Do you think you’ll go back to Edinburgh?” I probed.</p><p>She sighed. “Probably not. There’s nothing there for me to go back to.”</p><p>“Don’t you have family around there?” She had mentioned a brother, that evening we first sparred on the beach.</p><p>She shook her head. “My dad was an alcoholic who walked out on us when I was ten. I never saw him again. My mum died when I was seventeen. Breast cancer.”</p><p>Her tone made it clear she didn’t want to discuss it.</p><p>“Your brother?” I asked.</p><p>She stared fixedly at the sky. “He was in the army. He was killed by an IED in Afghanistan.”</p><p>“Oh. I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say.</p><p>She closed her eyes. “Don’t worry about it. It was a long time ago.”</p><p>We both awkwardly fell silent again. I wondered if this, finally, was the root of her discomfort about going home. I had no family, but I had my friends, people I looked forward to seeing again. I assumed that she must have too, but it seemed I was wrong. She looked so lonely and vulnerable in that moment, I felt bad for pressing her. I regretted causing her pain. I tried to find a way to comfort her.</p><p>“You could always come back to the Avengers. With me,” I suggested tentatively.</p><p>She shifted on her side, propped her own head up on her hand and looked at me, her gaze even more intense than usual. “Would you want me to? Aren’t you sick of me yet?” she added with forced lightness. I couldn’t read her expression.</p><p>I tried to laugh off how serious the moment had gotten. “Well sure. Wanda would get a kick out of having someone else with powers on the team. You’d make an awesome Avenger.”</p><p>She looked at me, full of doubt.</p><p>I felt a pang at the thought of going back to my life without her. “Mel…” I hesitated, not comfortable with expressing feelings, but I owed her something for starting this conversation. “Mel, I really do want you to come home with me. Truly. I mean, if you want to. I don’t want to lose you. If you weren’t around… I … I think I’d feel like I lost an arm. More than an arm. An organ or something. You’re part of me. You’ve been inside every cell in my body. You rebuilt me from the inside out - ”</p><p>A sudden thought cut off my breath.</p><p>“Nat,” Melanie started, her voice thick with emotion. “Nat, I –“</p><p>“Shhh,” I hissed, clapping my hand over her mouth. She made a stifled sound, her eyes widening with indignation, but I ignored her. My thoughts raced. Could it be possible?</p><p>I sat up slowly, my brow furrowed in concentration. Melanie sat up too, pulling my hand away. She opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again as I waved impatiently at her. I put my head in my hands and tried to pin down the idea that had occurred to me, to put it into words. Could it possibly work?</p><p>“Mel,” I said slowly. “You said, when you were vanished, you felt a connection between all your cells. That you were able to hold them together and… travel… from one place to another.”</p><p>“Ye-es,” Melanie said, clearly uncertain where I was going with this.</p><p>“So, you could say you were intimately familiar with every single cell in your body.”</p><p>She looked bewildered. “Nat, what –“</p><p>“And my body,” I interrupted. “You know every cell of that too.”</p><p>“I.. I guess…” She stammered. “I don’t see –“</p><p>“What if,” I cut across her again. “What if you could… break our bodies down, into their individual cells, or molecules, atoms, whatever. And get them to <em>travel</em>. And then put them back together at the other end.”</p><p>She stared at me, aghast. “Like matter transportation? Are you crazy, Nat? This isn’t a science fiction novel!”</p><p>“Says who!” I countered, jumping to my feet and starting to pace, unable to contain my excitement. “Mel, you rearranged my atoms, to bring me back to life, after I killed myself to get a little magic rock, on another planet, in order to save the world from aliens. My whole freaking life is a science fiction novel!”</p><p>She got slowly to her feet. “Well I can’t argue with that, but-“</p><p>“Think about it,” I insisted. “If we could disappear from here, and reappear somewhere else, we could get back home!”</p><p> She shook her head, looking dazed. “Nat I don’t know…. I don’t know if I can do that…”</p><p>“Well, you’re the scientist,” I said. “We have a hypothesis. Let’s test it.”</p><p> </p><p>*******</p><p> </p><p>Melanie refused, point blank, to test out my idea on either of us, and after I had calmed down from my eureka moment, I had to agree that what she was saying made sense. She had no idea if she could take something apart and put it back together the way I had suggested, and after her description of the bodiless existence she had led for five years, I had no desire to spend the rest of my life reduced to my component atoms.</p><p>We sat on opposite sides of the table in the cabin, staring at the small, round fruit in Melanie’s hands. Her eyes were unfocussed yet intense as she gazed into and through it, trying to familiarise herself with every cell, every atom that made it up.</p><p>Time passed, and I barely dared to breathe in case it broke her concentration. Finally she moved, her eyes still glazed, and placed the fruit slowly and deliberately at one end of the table. Her eyes refocussed and she looked at me. I nodded encouragingly. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Her brow furrowed.</p><p>The fruit trembled, as though brushed by a non-existent breeze. Then, as I watched with bated breath, it dissolved into nothing.</p><p>Melanie opened her eyes and turned her gaze to the other end of the table. That was the plan. Nothing fancy, just move the fruit from one end of the table to the other. Melanie stared intently at the table top. I could have sworn a hint of gold came into her eyes, then my attention was caught by a churning in the air. With a faint popping noise, the fruit reappeared.</p><p>Or at least most of it did.</p><p>We both stared at it in dismay. The fruit was no longer round and plump. Its skin sagged as it sat, oozing slightly, in a puddle of slime. It was as though some of its flesh had been scooped out, put through a blender, and then dumped on the table.</p><p>We looked at each other.</p><p>“Um,” I said.</p><p>“Yeah,” she agreed unhappily. “Not good.” She held out her hand. “Pass me another.”</p><p> </p><p>****</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Hours later, Melanie was drooping with exhaustion. She barely had the strength left to eat.</p><p>I carried her to her bed and tucked her in like a child. Then I returned to stare grimly at the pile of misshapen, spoiled fruits on the table. With a sigh, I scraped it into a bucket, took it a short way into the forest, and tipped it out on the ground. I didn’t think the monkeys would mind a bit of slime. I left the pile there for them to fight over.</p><p>I laid down on my own bed and wondered if I was crazy after all. I flung an arm over my eyes. “This is a terrible idea,” I groaned.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>****</p><p> </p><p>I dodged.</p><p>The fruit sailed past my left ear and squelched against the wall. It stuck there a moment, its sticky juices dripping, then slid down to the floor, leaving a pink trail down the wall.</p><p>“I can’t <em>do</em> this,” Melanie raged. She snatched up another fruit and aimed at me again.</p><p>I raised my hands in the air, trying to calm her down. In all the time we had spent together, I had never seen Melanie lose her temper, but it <em>had</em> been a very trying few days. A pile of weird and wonderfully misshapen fruits lay spilled over the table between us. She was getting closer, at least they no longer oozed slime or looked like they had lost half their innards, but no matter how she tried, she couldn’t put them back together exactly as they had been before she broke them apart. Her frustration was tangible.</p><p>“Mel,” I coaxed gently. “Mel, it’s okay.”</p><p>“Shut up!” she screeched, pelting the fruit at me. I ducked, and a second pink stripe joined the first.</p><p>“This was your stupid idea,” she yelled. She grabbed a third fruit from the table and cocked her arm back. “You and your stupid plan to get back to the Avengers, just so you can go back getting your kicks, beating the shit out of people for a living!”</p><p>I blanched. “Mel!” I protested weakly. Where the hell had that come from?</p><p>Her eyes, glaring into mine, began to glow a bright, pure gold, as though miniature suns had suddenly ignited within her pupils.</p><p>“Er, Mel…?”</p><p>“Making me think I could be an Avenger!” she stormed on, oblivious, her voice raising shrilly. “Making me think I could actually do something right! Making me believe you wanted me –“</p><p>“Mel!” I yelled in panic. The light from her eyes became blinding. There was a brilliant flash, then as suddenly as it had come, the golden light vanished. Her voice cut off abruptly. I tried to see past the spots dancing in my vision. She blinked at me owlishly with blue eyes, her arm still cocked back to throw the fruit at me.</p><p>Her hand was empty.</p><p>Her expression slowly changed to one of bewilderment. She lowered her arm, looked at her empty hand.</p><p>There was a ringing silence. Then a faint pop.</p><p>I felt something hit me squarely on the top of the head. “Huh,” I said, startled, putting up a hand to catch whatever had hit me. Something round and plump filled my palm. Dumbstruck, I looked at the perfect fruit in my hand. Wordlessly, I looked up at Melanie. Her mouth was hanging open, her eyes wide as saucers.</p><p>“You did it,” I whispered.</p><p>She just gaped at me.</p><p>I felt a grin spread unstoppably across my face. “Mel,” I cried, thrusting the fruit at her. “You did it! Look! You did it!”</p><p>She took it uncomprehendingly, still frozen with shock. Then, slowly, the achievement dawned in her face. She looked up at me, her eyes full of wonder. Spontaneously, I hugged her. She seemed to hesitate, then her arms tightened around me, hugging me back.</p><p>“I knew you could do it,” I whispered, squeezing her tightly.</p><p>She laughed shakily and gently broke the embrace. She looked down at the fruit in her hand and sucked in a long, calming breath.</p><p>“Well,” she said, exhaling slowly. “I guess we’d better see if I can do it again.”</p><p> </p><p>******</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>We stood on the beach facing each other, a dozen feet apart. It was a warm, beautifully sunny day. The ocean was as flat and calm as a pond. Not a leaf stirred in the forest.</p><p>Melanie chewed her lip, looking as though she was having second thoughts again.</p><p>Several weeks after her first successful attempt at matter transportation, she had progressed from moving fruit to the other side of the table, to the other end of the cabin, to moving it outside, and eventually to the other side of the island. Each time she achieved it, her eyes had taken on that brilliant golden glow, though never again as spectacularly as it had that first time.</p><p>We had cut open each test case, examining it minutely and comparing it to other, non-transported examples, to ensure it really was exactly the same. Feeling slightly squeamish, I had nonetheless tasted each one to determine if there had been any changes in flavour or texture that might indicate abnormalities we couldn’t see. They all seemed identical. Melanie had refused to touch them, saying that eating something she had been so intimately familiar with was almost like eating herself. She had looked so nauseated at the very thought that I hadn’t pressed her.</p><p>I was unbelievably proud of her.</p><p>She could transport more than just fruit now. Whatever doubts she had felt over the wisdom of this venture were swept away by her success, and her innate curiosity had come to the fore. She was eager to discover what else she could do.</p><p>Next, we had tried a wooden cup. After a couple of failed attempts, she had once again made that intuitive leap, comprehending the complex molecular blueprint that made the object unique, breaking it down into its component atoms and reassembling it again perfectly in its new location.</p><p>There were no more failed attempts.</p><p>A clay pot. One of my throwing knives. A small flowering plant that I had carefully dug up and replanted in the same clay pot. The more complex the item the longer she needed to familiarise herself with its blueprint, but once she had it, she transported it perfectly every time.</p><p>The next item on the agenda had been a big, and somewhat emotional, challenge. I felt inordinately guilty as I placed the bamboo cage with the trapped monkey inside in front of Melanie. Tears had glimmered in her eyes at its very real distress, but she had squared her jaw resolutely and gone into her trance. The monkey had quieted, much to my relief, his wrinkled face glazing over as though he too walked the myriad paths of his own body. It had taken a long, long time with the monkey. She had sat frozen, unresponsive, for nearly two days before she finally stirred. Unable to do anything but watch, and pace anxiously up and down, I had polished the floorboards smooth in a distinct line from one side of the cabin to the other by the time she had finally drawn a deep, rattling breath and opened her eyes. The monkey had let out a screech, as though it had been suddenly awoken from a sound sleep. She had met my anxious gaze with a weary smile, her eyes exhausted, ringed with dark circles, but triumphant.</p><p>I had held her up as she had slipped sideways, too drained to remain upright. Spoon-fed her as she had fed me, that first day, and rocked her like a baby as she drifted to sleep. Tucking her into her bed, I had carried a bucket full of the most succulent-looking fruits I could find to the monkey, trying to make up for his continued captivity. He had made soft hooting noises and rattled the bars of his cage, but then seemed to settle peaceably enough to his meal.</p><p>After twenty solid hours of sleep, Melanie awoke. She was burning to continue with the experiment, I could barely persuade her to eat something first. The liquid gold energy that had glowed in her eyes as she gazed at the caged monkey could have been the distilled essence of triumph.</p><p>The monkey vanished from the cage. A few seconds later, he reappeared at the open door of the cabin. He let out a joyful screech and bounded away. We ran to the door and watched as he swung himself up into the trees. His hoots of pleasure drifted back to us as he disappeared amongst the branches.</p><p>Wordlessly, I had beamed at Melanie. She had smiled knowingly back. There was a new confidence in her bearing. I knew she revelled in her new-found power.</p><p>She had balked, however, at taking the next logical step.</p><p>We stood facing each other on the beach, and I carefully kept all signs of nerves from showing as I patiently went through the argument again.</p><p>“Mel, the whole point of this was to get ourselves off this island. You have to try transporting me.”</p><p>She looked anguished. “But what if I can’t put you back together? What if I put you back together <em>wrong</em>?”</p><p>I spread my hands. “You already put me back together right,” I reminded her gently. “You’re ready, Mel. You can do this. I trust you.”</p><p>A tear trickled down her cheek. “I don’t know what I would do if –“</p><p>“Mel,” I cut her off firmly. “It’s going to be fine. You can do this.”</p><p>She screwed up her face as though pained, but she nodded. She took a deep breath, calming herself, then looked up at me. Her forehead furrowed in concentration as she stared intently at me. I held my breath.</p><p>There was a brilliant flash of gold.</p><p>And suddenly I was standing inside the cabin, blinking in the dimmer light.</p><p>“Woah,” I muttered, wobbling unsteadily on my feet. “What a rush!”</p><p>The sound of running footsteps, and Melanie burst through the door, her expression wild. When she saw me standing there, intact, her whole body sagged with relief. Then she burst into tears.</p><p>Feeling my way over to her, I hugged her tightly, feeling uncommonly like crying myself. Then the reaction set in and suddenly we were giggling, then crying, then laughing again. We sat down on the floor and laughed until our bodies ached.</p><p>“Come on,” I said eventually, pulling her to her feet. I grinned. “Let’s do that again!”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. 6.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Natasha and Melanie finally make it back to civilization, but events take an unexpected turn...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I stood in the cabin, looking around. It was strange, knowing I was there for the last time. I had never felt any emotional attachment to places I had lived before this. They were all one and the same to me. A place to sleep, to train, to prep for the next mission. Even the Avengers facility, possibly the only place I would have ever ventured to call <em>home</em>, was only important to me due to the people associated with it, the collection of odd-balls and misfits that had become my family. The building itself had no sentimental value without them.</p><p>This was different. Melanie and I had built this cabin with our own hands, paid for it in our own sweat and blood. It was almost a living entity. I felt like the walls were frowning at me, reproaching me for our resolution to leave, to abandon it to the wilderness.</p><p>“It’s a weird feeling isn’t it,” Melanie said softly behind me.</p><p>I laughed ruefully. “You read my mind.”</p><p>I laid my gun, knives and defunct shock devices carefully on the table. Next to them I laid Melanie’s staff. We had decided against trying to take anything with us, other than the clothes on our backs. We had practiced diligently, transporting to different locations around the island, and we were confident this would work, but the more we tried to transport, the more chance there was for something to go wrong. I had often felt like my weapons were an extension of my own body, but I had no desire for that to become a reality. I was wearing my Avenger suit, feeling an irrational reluctance to leave it behind, even minus its many accessories. Melanie was wearing her old white shirt and had restored her cut-off jeans back to their original length.</p><p>With a last look, we left the cabin and walked in silent accord to our recording rock. We gazed at its surface, criss-crossed with lines marking all two hundred and forty days we had been here. Then Melanie picked up the clam shell and calmly scratched one more, for today.  She studied the new mark thoughtfully for a moment, then turned and threw the clam shell in a long, graceful curve into the sea. She turned to look at me.</p><p>“Time to go?” she asked.</p><p>I nodded, drinking in the view of the sea, the cabin, the forest, one last time.</p><p>“Yes,” I said. I smiled at her. “Time to go.”</p><p>She faced me solemnly and took my hands. Her eyes began to glow. There was a flash of gold.</p><p>And we were somewhere else.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p>We had spent long hours debating the best location for our reappearance. We had established in our weeks of experimentation that she could only transport things either to a point within her line of sight, or to a location she was very familiar with. So we needed a place Melanie knew well. It also had to be somewhere we could be sure would definitely still exist, no matter what time zone we found ourselves in. And as we were about to appear out of thin air, it needed to be somewhere with no witnesses.</p><p>A moment ago we had stood in bright sunlight on a tropical beach.</p><p>We now stood on a paved concourse in the central courtyard of Edinburgh Castle, a looming patch of darkness surrounded by the orange pinpricks of hundreds of city lights. We had carefully planned our departure to time our arrival for the deepest hours of the night in Scotland, when we were almost certain there should be no-one around. Even with that forward planning, the sudden change from sunny afternoon to dark, somewhat foggy night was extremely disorienting. I staggered slightly and nearly fell over an ancient cannon rooted to the stones beside me.</p><p>“Yeesh,” I heard Melanie hiss as she wobbled, arms windmilling for balance.</p><p>I dropped instinctively into a battle-ready stance, swiftly scanning our surroundings, checking for any signs of alarm.</p><p>Nothing. I straightened slowly.</p><p>“Okay,” I said. “I guess we’re good.”</p><p>“Speak for yourself,” Melanie whispered. She sounded nauseated. “I think I have jet lag.”</p><p>I chuckled. “You would need to have been on a jet to have jet lag,” I pointed out.</p><p>“Well I have… whatever lag.”</p><p>“Breathe through your nose,” I advised, still looking around. “It’ll wear off soon.”</p><p>“Since when are you an expert on the effects of instantaneous matter transportation?”</p><p>I shrugged. “Since now.”</p><p>“Great.”</p><p>She rubbed her stomach and looked around. Her face took on an expression of awed disbelief, barely distinguishable in the gloom, as she took in our surroundings.</p><p>“I did it!” she whispered ecstatically.</p><p>“You did it,” I agreed affectionately, squeezing her shoulder.</p><p>For a moment we both just stood there, mesmerised by the sights and sounds of the city, so radically different to what we had left behind. Melanie rubbed her arms absently, shivering. Compared to the sub-tropical warmth of the island, it was freezing here, although I suspected it wasn’t particularly cold for the location.</p><p>“Come on,” I said at last, feeling uncomfortably exposed out in the open. “Let’s go figure out what decade we’re in.”</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>We threaded our way through the line of cannons and made our way silently towards the main gate. It was locked of course. I waited patiently, wishing I still had my tools, while Melanie frowned at the lock. After a minute, I heard the distinct scraping sound of the tumblers moving, and then a loud click. The gate swung open.</p><p>“Nice,” I told her.</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>We slipped through, pulling the gate closed behind us. Melanie re-locked it, leaving no trace of our visit.</p><p>We stood on a cobbled street which sloped steeply downhill, lined with tall buildings and dotted with wrought-iron streetlamps. Melanie seemed mesmerised. “It’s so weird,” she whispered. “All those lights…”</p><p>I looked around and had to admit that after so many months with no artificial light, the blaze of orange street lighting was a bit overwhelming.</p><p>“Come on,” I said again. I glanced at her. “This is your town. Which way?”</p><p>She peered this way and that, getting her bearings, then pointed down the hill to a little side street leading off at right angles. “That way.”</p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p>Melanie stared up at the building half in indignation, half perplexity.</p><p>“They turned my lab into a library?” she muttered incredulously.</p><p>I patted her consolingly on the back. “It could have been worse,” I pointed out. “It’s still a centre for learning, knowledge, er… reading, and all that. It’s not like they turned it into a burger bar or a disco or something.”</p><p>“I guess,” she said, not visibly consoled. </p><p>At least our fears of being stuck in the past had proven unfounded. Melanie knew the building had not been a library in the past; ergo, it stood to reason we were at some point in the future. We just had to figure out how far into the future…</p><p>“Well,” I said brightly, “It’s a great thing from our point of view. Just what we needed right now, actually.”</p><p>She rolled her eyes. “You want to break into a public library?”</p><p>“Can you think of a quicker way of getting a lesson in recent history?”</p><p>“I suppose not.” Melanie squinted through the plexiglass doors. “They will probably have alarms though. Wouldn’t it be better to just wait until it opens in the morning?”</p><p>“Maybe. But then again, it will be a lot easier to hack their computer system if nobody is watching.”</p><p>“You’re going to do what now?”</p><p>“Mel,” I said patiently. “We are two officially dead people walking around a Scottish city with no money, no ID, and no idea even what year it is. If I can get access to a computer, I can get us those things.”</p><p>Melanie shook her head resignedly. “I have no idea how you’re going to do that, but okay, I see your point. What’s the plan?”</p><p>“See that little red light up in the corner?”</p><p>She squinted through the doors again. “Yes.”</p><p>“It’s a motion sensor for the alarm. I need you to turn it so its pointing at the ceiling.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>I waited, and a few seconds later she said, “done.”</p><p>“Great. Let’s go.”</p><p>The doors inched open at Melanie’s mental command.</p><p>The interior of the library was cool and dark. Bookshelves lined the walls. Along the centre of the room were oval tables lined with flat-screen monitors.</p><p>“We can’t be far off our own time,” Melanie observed. “All of this looks very familiar.”</p><p>I nodded absently in agreement as I switched on the nearest computer. Within seconds, I had bypassed the login and accessed the main system. “Still got it,” I whispered triumphantly.</p><p>The first thing I did was check the computer’s in-built calendar for the date. And breathed a huge sigh of relief. “It’s okay. It’s only a year after… since I left.” I avoided mentioning Vormir. I still had dreams about falling down and down forever. “Exactly one year tomorrow, in fact.”</p><p>Melanie looked surprised. “Really? That’s impressive! That means we must have appeared on that island within a few days of <em>me</em> leaving. I wonder how the stone knew what time zone I originated from…?”</p><p>I grunted absently, not interested in discussing the soul stone. It stirred up too many unpleasant memories and unanswerable questions. We were here now, that was all that mattered.</p><p>I accessed the internet and brought up a few news pages, skimmed the recent headlines quickly. No major catastrophes, military coups or alien invasions sprang to my attention. Better and better. It looked as though life had returned fairly peacefully to the state it had been in before the Decimation of Thanos.</p><p>Now, for more practical considerations. My fingers dancing across the keys, I hacked into surrounding networks, then isolated a feed into the cash machine I had noticed built into the library wall outside.</p><p>“Mel, do me a favour.”</p><p>“What?” she asked.</p><p>“Go stand by that ATM outside.”</p><p>“What?” she said, puzzled. She looked over my shoulder as I swiftly typed code, then in the direction of the cash machine. Realisation of what I was doing dawned on her face.</p><p>“Are you kidding me?” she demanded shrilly. “You’re robbing a bank?!”</p><p>“Keep your voice down! Technically, for the moment we are robbing an ATM machine, not a bank. Get out there and be ready to grab the cash. Take one of those bags.” I indicated some printed drawstring bags on sale at the counter.</p><p>Melanie looked as though she didn’t know what to think. She turned dazedly towards the front doors, then suddenly turned back. “What do you mean, for the moment –?“ she began incredulously.</p><p>“Mel!”</p><p>“All right, all right!”</p><p>Still muttering under her breath, she grabbed a bag and slipped out through the front doors. I finished creating the tricky little virus that would eject every note in the machine and hit enter.</p><p>Some muffled swearing came from outside.</p><p>I quickly erased all signs of my use of the machine and shut the computer down. I could come back again later. For now, it was time to leave, before anyone came to investigate.</p><p>Two minutes later, we were walking back through the shadowy streets. I strolled along, unconcerned, the bag of cash under my arm. Melanie hunched her shoulders and swivelled her head to look behind so often she looked like she had a nervous twitch.</p><p>“Could you look any guiltier?” I demanded softly. “Calm down.”</p><p>She shook her head nervously. “Look, I’m not used to committing crime,” she said hotly. “I may be a murderer, but it wasn’t intentional. I feel… unclean.”</p><p>“I’m a murderer a hundred times over, and it was always intentional,” I pointed out testily.</p><p>“Yes, and how long have you spent seeking redemption for all of that?” she shot back.</p><p>I sighed. “Nobody died today, Mel. It’s just a bit of cash. What were we supposed to do, go find a homeless shelter? Get a job behind a bar and sleep on a bench till we save up enough tips for a plane ticket?”</p><p>“I guess not,” Melanie said unhappily. She cut me off as I tried to press the point. “I get it. Its fine. Needs must. But don’t ask me to feel good about it.”</p><p>“Okay.” I patted her on the shoulder. “Consider yourself my conscience.”</p><p>She laughed. “Just call me Jiminy.”</p><p>I laughed with her. The reaction, the realisation that we had made it, seemed to hit both of us, making us giddy. We giggled like school girls on a field trip, running down the street, trying to outdo each other in pointing out features of civilization. Post boxes. Parking meters. Satellite dishes. Traffic lights. Advertisements. Discarded pizza boxes. Every long-unseen nicety delighted us.</p><p>We found a twenty-four-hour McDonalds and sat at a plastic table stuffing burgers and fries and milkshakes. We both got a little over-excited about the first fast food we had tasted in months. Years in Melanie’s case. The spotty youth behind the counter kept glancing at us oddly from behind his mobile phone.</p><p>Eventually, as the sky began to lighten in the east, we booked into a hotel.</p><p>Melanie faltered as we entered the room. I glanced at her, concerned. She looked like she had seen a ghost. I swiftly scanned the room but found nothing out of the ordinary. At least, nothing out of the ordinary to someone who hadn’t spent the last eight months as a castaway. Part of my brain thrilled at the sight of a tv, a phone, a coffee machine, a real <em>bathroom</em>… even as the rest of me tried to scent the danger that had called that look onto her face.</p><p>She walked slowly to the window and looked out.</p><p>“Mel, what’s wrong?” I asked urgently. I wished I had a weapon…</p><p>She turned to face me. “I didn’t realise, I wasn’t paying much attention last time… but it’s the same hotel,” she whispered, clearly unnerved. “The same room.” She looked down at her hands, as though to reassure herself they were still there. “Right here. This spot. This is where I vanished.”</p><p>I swore softly under my breath. What were the chances? I shut and locked the door, thinking quickly. It had been six years, and she had only been here a few hours back then. The chances of anyone recognising her were very slim. Still.</p><p>I glanced back at her, and decided to risk it. The task of transporting us several thousand miles had to have been exhausting, especially combined with the emotional rollercoaster we had experienced since we had arrived. She looked worn out. “Why don’t you get some sleep?” I suggested. “I’ll stay awake. Just in case.”</p><p>She nodded mechanically, crossing to one of the large twin beds. I replaced her at the window, glanced down at the street. A few people were starting to appear, most of them yawning, on their way to work. The smell of frying floated across from a sandwich bar across the road. Several workmen in high vis vests came out, clutching greasy bacon rolls and polystyrene cups. I pulled the curtains across and turned back to the room. Melanie was already sprawled on top of the covers, still fully dressed, sound asleep. I smiled fondly. There was a wool blanket folded on a table. I unfolded it and gently covered her, then headed for the bathroom.</p><p>The luxury of modern conveniences was sheer bliss. I took a long, long shower, intoxicated by the barely-remembered feeling of hot water and soap on my skin. Never again would I take such simple pleasures for granted. The room was hot and steamy as a sauna when I finally stepped out and wrapped myself in towels. Rubbing at my hair, I headed back into the main room and turned on the coffee machine. Turned on the tv, swiftly muting it so as not to wake Melanie.</p><p>Bright coloured figures filled the screen. A rerun of the Simpsons. I watched for a while, absently drying and brushing out my hair and drinking coffee. The silent antics on the screen seemed ludicrous. I looked down at the fluffy towel swathing my body, felt the smooth glaze of the mug under my fingertips. The taste of the coffee filled my mouth. It was overwhelming. Utterly surreal.</p><p>I shook my head. “Get a grip, Romanoff,” I told myself firmly.</p><p>I pottered around for a while, drinking coffee and flicking through the tv channels, peering into every drawer and cupboard.</p><p>I woke Melanie after a few hours. She was grumpy, but it wasn’t a good idea to sleep all day if she wanted to retune her body clock. She cheered up when she saw the shower. Sitting on my bed, I chuckled at the satisfied sounds audible over the drum of water through the bathroom door. While I waited for her to finish, I rang down to reception and ordered breakfast and more coffee for the machine.</p><p>The bathroom door eventually opened, expelling a pink and damp Melanie and a cloud of steam. Her expression when I presented her with the coffee cup made me laugh out loud. She closed her eyes and sipped, a look of utter bliss settling on her face.</p><p>We sat drinking coffee and munching croissants with jam, discussing our next move. We debated calling someone I knew, one of the Avengers, on the bedside phone. However, the phone just didn’t feel like the right way to break the news to them that I was alive. It was going to be a massive shock to them. It would be better face to face. We decided our best bet was to head to the airport and catch a flight to New York. From there we could easily make our way up state to the facility, assuming it had been rebuilt. Melanie had overheard plans to do so, but work had not begun before she left, so she had no idea if it had become a reality. We needed to check that. We also needed a few other things. I was a little conspicuous in my current outfit.</p><p>We went shopping.</p><p>A while later we strolled down the high street, sipping takeaway Starbucks and eating muffins. The caffeine-and-sugar high after a day and night of no sleep was seriously addictive. Melanie had swapped her white shirt for a long-sleeved dark green t-shirt and a navy soft shell jacket. A baseball cap was pulled down low over her eyes. I was still worried about her getting recognised. I had opted for a casual checked shirt, leggings, knee boots, and a brown leather jacket. My suit was folded carefully into the shopping bag in my hand. We blended perfectly into the crowded streets.</p><p>Other necessities, however, had proved more difficult to acquire than clothing.</p><p>“I can’t believe there’s no gun store in this town,” I grumbled under my breath. “You can’t even buy a decent knife! What kind of civilisation is this?”</p><p>“The civilised kind,” Melanie retorted. “The kind with sensible laws, where any old psychopath on the street can’t just walk into a shop and buy an automatic rifle or a machete to take down the local high school.”</p><p>“That’s not how it works.”</p><p>“Yeah right. Did you <em>never</em> watch the news before?”</p><p>“I was usually too busy making it.”</p><p>We headed back to the library that had once been her lab. This time we strolled right in. No subterfuge necessary. I noticed the ATM outside had a large out-of-order sign taped to the screen, and hid a smirk.</p><p>We sat down at neighbouring computers.  Melanie started trawling the internet, looking for news of the Avengers. I focussed on my own assignment. I needed to locate someone who could forge passports. Not the easiest thing to do discretely on a public computer, but I still had a few tricks up my sleeve. I tilted the monitor slightly so the woman at the desk couldn’t see the screen and started to type.</p><p>“The new Avengers facility has just reopened,” Melanie whispered, scanning an article. “That was quick construction…”</p><p>I nodded, relieved. If they had rebuilt the facility, some of my friends were sure to be there. At least we weren’t going to have to go hunting all over the globe.</p><p>I paused in my own search. “Is it on the same site? Can you transport us straight there?”</p><p>Melanie clucked her tongue at the photographs. “Risky. It is in the same place… but these photos don’t give me much of an idea of the internal layout. I don’t fancy materialising inside a concrete wall. I suppose if we absolutely <em>had</em> to…”</p><p>I nodded, resuming my typing. “We’ll stick to the plan then. Does that article say anything about who is in residence?”</p><p>“Nothing definite,” she answered, skimming quickly through the article. “Although, wait, here’s something – ‘former deputy-director of Shield, Commander Maria Hill, has been confirmed as head of the revised Avenger’s Initiative; however she has so far declined to disclose which of the surviving Avengers have signed on to the new programme’…”</p><p>“Hmmm,” I murmured, slightly disappointed. I guessed I would just have to wait and see which of my friends greeted us on arrival. I was happy to hear Maria was there, alive and well, although I had to wonder where Fury was if she had been sweet-talked into taking official command. Maybe he had actually decided to retire. I snorted to myself derisively. More likely he was just lurking in the shadows as usual. Maria Hill had always been his most devoted follower. I doubted any decisions she made would be totally free of his influence.</p><p>I put the question aside for the moment, and carried on hacking my way into the secret byways of the internet. A few minutes later I had found what I sought. The criminal underworld had a whole online presence of its own if you knew how to access it. We were in luck. There was a dealer in forged documents in Scotland, based in Glasgow. Not that far away. We could get there by train in a couple of hours. I sneaked past a few protective firewalls, narrowing down the location.</p><p>And that was when Melanie nudged me, urgently. “Uh, Nat? We may have a slight problem,” she murmured.</p><p>I glanced quizzically aside. And froze.</p><p>Tony Stark looked back at me from another news article. Two pictures, side by side. One of his laughing, always slightly smug face, wearing a shirt and tie. The other of him as Iron Man, arm out, fingers splayed as he prepared to blast something out of sight with his palm cannon.</p><p>My eyes raked the headline. <em>Always remembered</em>, it proclaimed in large black letters. And underneath – <em>A memorial service will be held in Washington today in remembrance of the heroes who gave their lives one year ago</em>…</p><p>Silently, Melanie scrolled the page down.</p><p>And right there, underneath Tony’s pictures, were two of me. A close up of my face. A photo of me in full Black Widow gear, aiming a handgun.</p><p>I looked up sharply at a tv mounted up in a corner. Sure enough, the same photo looked back at me from the news channel.</p><p>“Uh oh,” I muttered.</p><p>I glanced around. No-one seemed to be paying any attention to the tv. A woman holding the hand of a young boy stood at the counter, waiting while the librarian stamped a pile of picture books. A few people were perusing the bookshelves or sitting reading. Only two other computers were in use. One man was scrolling through football scores, another diligently typing away at what looked like a resume.</p><p>I gently removed Melanie’s cap, put it on my own head and pulled the peak right down. I quickly memorised what was on my screen, wiped it, and shut it down.</p><p>“Let’s go,” I said, getting up.</p><p>As we walked towards the exit, I saw a man sitting on a couch by the window staring at me over the top of his newspaper. I looked away.</p><p>We walked quickly back to the hotel. I imagined I could feel a million stares burning into my back.</p><p>“Are you ok?” Melanie asked worriedly as we made it back to our hotel room and closed the door.</p><p>“Yeah,” I said absently. I realised I was pacing, and stopped, embarrassed. “Just a little freaked out I guess,” I admitted, sinking down on to the end of a bed. I forced a laugh. “Not every day you read your own obituary…”</p><p>She said nothing, just sat beside me. Her silent, sympathetic presence was soothing.</p><p>I tried to think.</p><p>I didn’t know why the thought of being recognised had spooked me so much. Possibly just my spy instincts rearing their head – being recognised was usually swiftly followed by lots of running and shouting and people trying to kill me. Possibly it was the shock of the reality of my official demise being thrust right in my face. And I was being remembered as a hero! A memorial ceremony in Washington… the president was probably making a speech. I was suddenly certain that my reappearance was going to be a shock to more than just the Avengers. If I had been infamous before, now apparently I was a global icon. And right now, on the anniversary of my supposed death, my face was in every newspaper, on every news channel. If I was suddenly spotted on a public street, there would be pandemonium. The press would go nuts. It would be a carnival. I felt like I had suddenly been made the focus of a blindingly bright spotlight. Which made my spy instincts very, very nervous. I had been forced into the spotlight before this, and it had not ended well. But how to avoid it? All my covers were blown.</p><p>“Okay, Romanoff,” I muttered under my breath. “It’s okay. Your covers have been blown before. You just need to make some new ones.”</p><p>No-one knew I was alive after all. No-one would be expecting a dead Avenger to just turn up on a crowded high street in Scotland. I could probably pass myself off as a fan if necessary. Not all that far-fetched. People would insist on making themselves into little replicas of those they idolised…</p><p>Suddenly I felt exhausted. The lack of sleep, combined with the unaccustomed caffeine and sugar, hit my body like a punch in the gut. I drooped.</p><p>An arm slipped around my shoulders.</p><p>“Hey,” Melanie said soothingly. She smiled. “Your turn for a nap, I think.” She pushed me down on the bed. “Go on. Take an hour or two. I’ll keep an eye out.”</p><p>Something told me this wasn’t the best idea, but I couldn’t think of a good argument against it. Shuffling back, I laid my head on the pillow. I felt Melanie lay the blanket over me. I was asleep before I could even thank her.</p><p> </p><p>****</p><p> </p><p>Later, I was furious with myself for ignoring my instincts. For just drifting off to sleep.</p><p>Because of course, it wasn’t the adoring public I should have been worried about being recognised by. And of course, the attack caught me napping.</p><p>I awoke to Melanie’s shriek and a concussion of sound as the door was blown off its hinges. Masked men in black combat armour poured into the room. Reflex kicked in like an electric shock before I was even totally awake. Quick as a striking snake I rolled off the bed. My eyes snapped open. I kicked out, my foot taking the first man to rush me in the throat. Three more bore down on me and I ducked, tossing a second over my shoulder, punching a third in the stomach.</p><p>Grunts and yells of shock filled the room as the tv and coffee machine lurched into the air and hurled themselves at our attackers. The blanket on the bed swirled and wrapped itself around one assailant’s head. Grabbing the trailing fabric, I yanked him closer and snatched his gun. Over his shoulder I saw a masked marauder grab Melanie from behind. Her face screwed up with determination. Solar plexus. Instep. Nose. Groin. The man collapsed in an agonised heap, blood streaming from his nose, clutching his privates.</p><p>“Ha! Yes, Mel!” I shouted gleefully. I let myself fall backwards onto the bed, dragging my opponent with me and using the momentum to catapult him across the room. With a quick flex of my body I was back on my feet as he crashed through the bathroom door, reducing it to splinters, still tangled in the blanket. More figures were dashing in from the hallway. It was starting to get crowded with flailing bodies. There was no room to aim the gun, and I didn’t dare fire indiscriminately in case I hit Melanie. I settled for brute force, smashing the hilt into the bundle of nerves at the base of the next man’s neck.</p><p>Abruptly the bodies retreated.</p><p>“Stop,” a sneering male voice rang out.</p><p>The room went very still. My eyes raked over the dozen gun barrels trained on me as I spun, my captured weapon at the ready, then sought the author of the command.</p><p>A man in a bullet-proof vest and grey khakis stood in the doorway. He wore dark glasses, and a closely-trimmed grey beard. A mocking smile curved his thin lips as he inclined his head to one side. I followed his gaze. Melanie, her eyes wide, struggled before a hulking bald individual with tattoos covering every inch of exposed skin. Her hands scrabbled wildly at the cord wrapped around her throat.</p><p>“Surrender, or your friend dies,” ordered the man with the glasses.</p><p>I chewed my lip in frustration, my eyes flicking over the room. No options presented themselves. There was no way to escape. Not without killing Melanie. I recognised the expert way the tattooed man held the garrotte. This was a professional. He would snap her neck before I could get to her.</p><p>The room started to tremble as though an earthquake was beginning as Melanie’s panicked eyes rolled up into her head. Trickles of plaster drifted down from the ceiling. The window panes rattled.</p><p>The man with the glasses seemed unconcerned.</p><p>“Tell your friend to stop what she is doing, or we put a dozen bullets through <em>your</em> head.”</p><p>Melanie’s eyes snapped open and she gave another frantic struggle, then her anguished gaze locked on mine. I nodded wordlessly. She stilled. Gradually, the tremors stopped.</p><p>I slowly straightened up, raised my hands in the air, the gun I still held pointing at the ceiling. I glared at the guy with the garrotte and he shrugged and loosened it the barest fraction, just enough so Melanie could gulp air more easily. His deadpan stare told me without words that one wrong move and that cord would snap tight and snuff her out like a candle.</p><p>Trembling with suppressed rage, I turned my attention back to the man with the glasses.</p><p>So much for being a revered hero. Whoever these people were, they clearly weren’t looking for an autograph.</p><p>“Who are you? What do you want?” I asked, keeping tight control of my voice.</p><p>The man smirked.</p><p>“I represent an… interested party.” That voice somehow struck a chord in my memory. I wished I could see his eyes behind those glasses. He cocked his head. “We’ve been looking for your little friend there for quite some time. She has… abilities we find interesting. She escaped my agent last time she was here, thanks to that global… incident… but when the status quo was restored, I knew she would return to this quaint little town, eventually. Good of her to finally show up. Although I was very surprised to see you with her. Surprised… but very pleased.” He raised a gloved hand and removed his glasses. A thin face with a hooked nose, thick brows and cold, grey eyes looked at me. My brow furrowed. I knew that face. But I couldn’t place it.</p><p>“Natalia Romanova. Natasha Romanoff. Black Widow.” He rolled my names around his mouth like tasting a fine wine. “You’re supposed to be dead.” He smiled a cruel smile. “I find it quite… fascinating… that you seem very much alive, after all the tales of how you sacrificed yourself so selflessly. Such a waste. The woman I knew would never have done something so foolishly sentimental.”</p><p>“You don’t know me at all,” I told him scornfully.</p><p>“Oh but I do.” His icy regard sent shivers down my spine. “I know you very well indeed, Natalia. You could say I helped create you. I’m hurt you don’t remember me, but no matter. I look forward to the opportunity for us to… reacquaint ourselves.” His cruel smile told me the reacquainting would not be pleasant.</p><p>My mind raced as he snapped an order and the gun was ripped from my grasp. How did I know this man? How did he know me? What did he mean, he helped create me? Rough hands gripped my arms, yanked my hair.</p><p>Grimacing as my head was forced back, I met Melanie’s tortured gaze. Something about the way she looked at me sent a jolt down my spine.</p><p>“Mel,” I gasped.</p><p>She stared at me with an intensity that burned. With a sudden, sick feeling of dread, I realised what she was about to do. Miniature suns kindled in the pupils of her eyes.</p><p>“No!” I yelled, lunging forward.</p><p>There was a blinding flash of gold.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>See, I told you this story was going somewhere. Ye of little faith. Sorry if you just wanted a nice simple Natasha-gets-her-happy-ending story, but she just has too many unresolved issues!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. 7.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This was not the reunion Natasha had in mind.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I continued lurching forward, the unexpected release from the hands holding me back making me lose my balance. I turned my fall into a roll and came deftly to my feet. My fists raised, I spun, ready to punish whoever made the mistake of coming at me, but the room full of men in black, Melanie, the tattooed giant, the icy man with the glasses, all had vanished.</p><p>I was in a large, bright room with huge windows, comfortable couches, a huge flat screen tv, a pool table, a minibar…</p><p>There was an odd echoing silence, as though a hum of hushed conversation had just broken off abruptly. Then there was a tinkling smash, like someone had just dropped a wineglass in shock.</p><p>I spun again.</p><p>The room contained a small group of people, who gaped at me in blank astonishment. I felt a leap of joy as I recognized half a dozen faces I had yearned to see for months. Some I had thought I would never see again. Yet the joyful moment of reunion was totally eclipsed by the utter devastation I felt.</p><p>I knew immediately what had happened. Melanie had used her powers to transport me out. And of course, in the heat of the moment, where else would she send me but the one place we had been trying to get to?</p><p>I was in the new Avengers facility. I was home. But Melanie was not with me.</p><p>Desolation threatened to overwhelm me.</p><p>I had to get back to her.</p><p>Disregarding the stunned faces of my friends, I darted for the door. As though my movement had lifted a spell, a babble of incredulous voices broke out behind me.</p><p>“Was that-?”</p><p>“Did you see-?”</p><p>“Impossible -!”</p><p>“<em>Nat </em>-?” A green boulder in shirt and pants blocked the corridor, carrying a tray of nibbles. A large face goggled at me, flabbergasted.</p><p>“Not now Bruce,” I snapped, flashing past him and ducking through a security door into what I assumed was the working part of the building. I ran down the corridor, searching the rooms I passed. Damn it, could they not have just built the place the same as before? I had no idea where I was going.</p><p>There! A lab. Large translucent monitors. That’s what I needed. I dived in the door and vaulted a workbench, my fingers reaching for a keyboard even as I landed. I started typing feverishly. The corner of my brain that had thrilled to see my friends was touched to find my passwords still worked.</p><p>That was when a blurred fiery form streaked through the door and knocked me flying across the room. I hit a wall and collapsed to the floor, winded. A familiar glowing female arm picked me up by the front of my shirt.</p><p>“Damn it, Carol,” I spat, my feet dangling off the floor. I didn’t have time for this. Whipping my body around, I wrapped my legs around her, wrestled Carol to the ground and dived back for the computer.</p><p>A huge green hand gripped my shoulder and flipped me backwards with mind-blowing force. For the second time I flew across the room and hit the opposite wall with a crunch.</p><p>“I don’t know what you are, freak, or how you look like Natasha, but you chose the wrong day to pull this crap,” Bruce Banner threatened, advancing on me, Carol Danvers beside him.</p><p>Oh great. They thought I was an imposter.</p><p>“Guys. Seriously. I don’t have time for this,” I croaked. My fear for Melanie was making me frantic. The man in the glasses could be doing anything to her while they wasted precious time trying to take me out. Unable to think past my burning need to get to the computer and track them down, I gathered myself and made another attempt for the console, diving through Bruce’s legs and rolling under a desk. Movement flickered in the corner of my eye as I reached the monitor and I kicked backwards ruthlessly, sending Carol crashing across a lab table covered in fragile glass equipment. My fingers started flying across the keyboard again and I managed to bring up the city of Edinburgh’s CCTV network before my head got slammed into the desk. Half blinded by the stars in front of my eyes, I fought ferociously, mindlessly, my reflexes taking over and trading a dozen blows faster than I could think. <em>Melanie!</em> my mind screamed. <em>Stop this! I have to get to Melanie!</em></p><p>Abruptly I was seized in an invisible grip of iron and lifted off the floor. Red fire danced around me as Wanda gestured with both hands and pinned me back against the wall. I gasped and swore but no matter how I struggled, I couldn’t break free.</p><p>Allowing my body to go limp, I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my vision, my head still ringing from hitting the desk.</p><p>A group of my friends formed a semi-circle before me, their faces stony, jaws clenched.</p><p>Carol, Bruce, Rhodes. Maria Hill, her expression hard over the barrel of the handgun she aimed at me. Unconsciously, my heart swelled at seeing her alive, as well as Sam, who glowered, arms crossed; and Wanda, who glared at me with a distinctly devilish red glint in her eyes, crimson balls of energy glowing in her hands.  Then I blinked in confusion as a blue Iron Man suit landed next to them and faced me, palm outstretched. “T-Tony?” I gasped weakly. But that couldn’t be right. And anyway, since when did Tony have a <em>blue </em>suit?</p><p>There was a blast of air and a sizzle of heat as the figure blew a smoking hole in the wall next to my face.</p><p>“Don’t you dare say his name,” a familiar voice came from the depths of the helmet. At the same time, I noticed the suit was smaller than Tony’s, and had a definite feminine aspect.</p><p>“<em>Pepper?”</em> I croaked, amazed.</p><p>The front of the helmet retracted, revealing the face of Pepper Potts.</p><p>The group looked at each other, anger and suspicion etched on all their faces. I tried again to wriggle free, but Wanda’s grip was unshakable. Damn but it was so good to see them! If only Melanie…</p><p>“Guys it’s me,” I said urgently. “It’s me! I can explain. But you need to let me down.”</p><p>“Like hell we do,” Rhodes growled. “What do you think?” he added to the others. “Robot? Plastic surgery?”</p><p>I rolled my eyes.</p><p>“It’s incredible,” Bruce said, looking me up and down in awe. “It looks just like her, sounds just like her. Even <em>fights</em> like her.”</p><p>“That’s because it <em>is</em> me!”</p><p>“Natasha is dead,” he snapped back, his huge fists clenching. “She died a year ago. Exactly a year ago. What is this, some kind of sick anniversary prank?”</p><p>This was wasting too much time. Melanie was in danger. I had to get to her. I had to make them understand.</p><p>“Wanda,” I gasped, looking into those red-tinted eyes. I really, really didn’t want to experience this again, but if that was what it took… “Wanda, go in my head. It’s me. Look inside my head and tell them it’s me.”</p><p>Wanda stared at me, suspicion and bewilderment warring in her expression. Then her brows knitted with decision. The red light coiling around me pulsed, and the room dissolved.</p><p><em>Ballerinas danced in perfect synchronisation across a polished wood floor… A struggling figure, a sack over his head, writhed desperately in front of a target while I sighted down the barrel of a revolver… </em>There was a flash of red and…<em> I sat tied to a chair in an abandoned warehouse, where a confused-looking mobster was placing a mobile phone to my ear. “Natasha. Barton’s been compromised,” Coulson’s voice said down the phone… Confronting Loki in a prison of glass, his smug face scornful as I demanded to know what would become of my friend. “Is this love, Agent Romanoff?” “Love is for children, I owe him a debt,” I told him… </em>A red flash…<em> I gazed up at a hole in the sky above New York as creatures out of a nightmare swam through the atmosphere… Smoke filled the air as three hellicarriers fell out of the sky above the Triskelion, their guns still blazing… A tide of monsters surged against the bright blue defensive energy shield of Wakanda… Clint Barton’s anguished face pleaded with me as we hung over a precipice, his hand desperately clutching my wrist. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “You can let go.” Kicking off the rock, wrenching myself from his grasp and falling down and down and down…. </em>A flash of red<em>…Melanie, standing by the fireplace, the very first time I had seen her… Melanie, spoon feeding me stew that I was too weak to feed myself… Melanie, her stunning blue eyes gazing so intensely into mine, her body tense and trembling beneath me, my hands entwined in hers as I pinned her to the sand… Melanie, pelting spoiled fruit at me in a fit of temper… Melanie, in the clutches of a heavily tattooed brute, a wire around her throat, her eyes burning gold like miniature suns….</em></p><p>Abruptly I was back in the room, surrounded by the suspicious glares of the Avengers. Slowly, I felt Wanda’s iron grip on my body relax, and I floated gently to the floor. The red light that spilled from her hands dissipated like smoke on the breeze.</p><p>I met Wanda’s awed gaze, watched the red fade from her eyes.</p><p>“It’s you,” Wanda whispered wonderingly. She reached out. Her fingertips brushed my face. “It’s really you.”</p><p>I smiled wearily and clasped her hand against my cheek. “It’s me.”</p><p>I looked up at the others. Their jaws were all hanging open in stunned disbelief. I let out a laugh that was almost a sob.</p><p>“Hi guys,” I said. “Did you miss me?”</p><p> </p><p>******</p><p> </p><p>My fingers flew across the computer keyboard.</p><p>As soon as their defensive stance wavered, I had pushed through the group, back to the console. Now I brought up CCTV footage from outside the hotel, spinning it back impatiently.</p><p>They had stood back silently and let me, too confused and emotional to speak. I was grateful for that. I needed to focus.</p><p>I played the footage and watched with narrowed eyes as several police cars and a black van swerved to a halt in front of the building, and a swarm of figures in black-ops gear ran up the front steps. I gritted my teeth and pressed fast forward. Now they were coming back out. Many of them limping, assisting injured comrades back to the vehicles. The man with the dark glasses stalked angrily down the steps, gesturing sharply over his shoulder, his lips issuing a curt, silent order. My nails dug into the inside of my palms as I watched the hulking bald giant emerge, his face obscured by the limp figure he carried over his shoulder. He tossed her unconscious body into the back of the van and hauled himself in after her. Several of the black-clad figures jumped in as well. The man with the glasses got into the passenger seat, and the van drove away. The police cars remained, several men in uniform placating confused and excited passers-by. Finally, they too got into their cars and drove away.</p><p>I checked the time stamp on the footage, then the clock in the corner of the monitor. Twenty-six minutes had passed.</p><p>The silence behind me grew thick with expectation. Their stares burned holes in my back. I ignored them. I started hacking into current police records, looking for any sign of the operation that had just gone down.</p><p>“Nat?” a hesitant voice murmured behind me. Bruce was the first to break out of their shocked state. “Nat?” he said again.</p><p>The emotion in his choked voice froze me for a moment. My fingers paused in their tapping…</p><p>Melanie.</p><p>I resumed typing, pushing everything aside. Let nothing interfere with the mission.</p><p>Nothing in any police records. No mention of the hotel. No record of any arrests, no notifications of a prisoner being brought in. Somehow that didn’t surprise me. Police, even SWAT teams, didn’t have strangling wire in their arsenal. Didn’t show the kind of ruthless ease, even pleasure, the tattooed giant had taken in using it. Something else was going on here.</p><p>Bringing up another window, I ran a licence plate search on the van.</p><p>Nothing. It was as though it didn’t exist.</p><p>I ground my teeth in frustration.</p><p>“Nat,” Wanda spoke up quietly from beside me. “What do you need? What can we do?”</p><p>“The van,” I muttered. “I have to trace the van.”</p><p>My voice seemed to break the spell on the rest of them.</p><p>“What the hell is going on?” Rhodes demanded.</p><p>“Wanda are you <em>sure</em>-?”</p><p>“Natasha, how is this possible –?”</p><p>I raised a hand sharply without looking at them, silencing their protests. I was on a mission.</p><p>“We thought you were dead, Nat,” Bruce whispered, his voice breaking.</p><p>“I was,” I answered absently. I brought up more windows, dozens, checking CCTV feeds from all over town, my eyes flicking over them all fiercely, searching for a glimpse of that black van.</p><p>The silence behind me grew more pronounced.</p><p>“You’re not a zombie, are you?” Sam asked finally. The others must have reacted, because he added defensively, “What? We’re all thinking it, I’m just saying it!”</p><p>A flash of memory obscured the screen.</p><p>
  <em>“I’m not going to start wanting to eat your brains am I?” I asked Melanie anxiously… She rolled her eyes. “You have seen too many movies.”</em>
</p><p>I trembled, biting back a shameful urge to sob. No emotion. The mission. Let nothing interfere with the mission.</p><p>“No,” I snapped, resuming my search.</p><p>“Can someone please explain what is happening here,” Rhodes demanded. “How can you be alive?”</p><p>“I was resuscitated,” I said shortly.</p><p>There was another silence.</p><p>“Nat,” Bruce said awkwardly. “Barton said you fell two hundred feet. Onto solid rock. I’m sorry, but I have a hard time believing anyone could have resuscitated you after that.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, I had a bit of body work done first,” I muttered.</p><p>“Who-“</p><p>“What-“</p><p>“How-“</p><p>I slammed my hand on the desk, turning my head to glare at them, and they shrank back, falling silent.</p><p>“There was a woman,” Wanda murmured wonderingly. “A woman with powers… she put you back together…”</p><p>“A woman?” Bruce exclaimed doubtfully. “What woman?”</p><p>I made an aggravated sound and flung the image of the scene outside the hotel up in front of them, full screen. I froze the footage, enhancing the section showing Melanie’s limp form being carried from the building.</p><p>“<em>That</em> woman,” I snapped, jabbing my finger at her bound image. “<em>She</em> saved me. I can’t explain to you how, or why, I barely understand it myself. But she saved me. And now these bastards have her and I have to get her back.”</p><p>I spun to face them, close to breaking point. “Please,” I pleaded. “I know it’s a lot to take in. But it’s a really long story and I don’t have time to tell it right now. I have to get her back. Please. Are you going to help me or not?”</p><p>They looked at each other.</p><p>The blue iron woman suit suddenly dissolved, breaking down into a million tiny fragments and disappearing, revealing a familiar slender, strawberry-blonde figure. Her eyes were less innocent than I remembered, aged by grief and responsibility, but her empathetic nature was unchanged. Pepper stepped forward to stand beside Wanda, her face full of compassion.</p><p>“Of course we’ll help you,” she said.</p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p>I paced restlessly up and down, too keyed up and anxious to sit still.</p><p>Sam and Rhodes had taken over scanning CCTV footage, searching for the black van. Pepper and Maria were trawling through social media, looking for any references to the scene at the hotel. Carol stood motionlessly to one side, watching me pace thoughtfully.</p><p>“So let me get this straight,” Bruce said. “This friend of yours broke you down into atoms, zapped you three thousand miles or so across the Atlantic Ocean, and then put you back together again here.”</p><p>I shrugged. “Essentially,” I agreed tiredly. I was exhausted.</p><p>“Wow,” Bruce muttered, looking impressed. “Matter transportation… there have been theories but no-one has ever done it, even Tony-“ He broke off abruptly.</p><p>“You said she can physically move things with her mind too?” Wanda said. “Like me.”</p><p>I nodded.</p><p>I had given them the short – very short – version of the last year and related every detail I could remember of what had happened at the hotel.</p><p>“She means a great deal to you, this woman,” Wanda said softly. Her eyes searched my face intently.</p><p>I avoided her gaze. Of course Melanie meant a great deal. She had saved my life, we had spent months marooned on an island together, hadn’t I just said so?</p><p>“Damn,” Sam sighed from the monitors. He turned to me apologetically. “I’m sorry Nat, but there’s nothing. <em>Nothing</em>. Don’t ask me how, but your damn van has vanished into thin air.”</p><p>I looked at Pepper. She and Maria both shook their heads. “No go on social media,” Maria reported. “A few comments on Facebook, a photo on Instagram of the police cars in front of the hotel, but nothing we didn’t already have from the CCTV.”</p><p>“Okay,” I said, thinking hard. “Is there anything else we can use from the footage? I already tried the license plates. What about the people?”</p><p>“Not enough to make a visual ID,” Rhodes said. “They all had those masks on. Best we have is a shot of that guy that looked to be in charge, the dude in the sunglasses.”</p><p>“Can we get an ID on him?”</p><p>“Already running a search. Nothing so far. Between the glasses and the poor resolution, there might not be enough to get any kind of fix.”</p><p>“You said he took his glasses off inside,” Wanda said suddenly. She raised a hand and a curl of red smoke drifted through her fingers. “If I could see what you saw, I might be able to produce an image the computer could read…”</p><p>I met her eyes, and she shrugged apologetically. What she was suggesting violated a long-established and fiercely enforced rule between us; namely, that Wanda stayed <em>out</em> of my head. Her ability to force her way into my mind and drag out the horrors I tried to forget had been a source of extreme coolness between us for some time in her first months as an Avenger. Initially I had refused point-blank to train with her, not trusting myself not to put a bullet in her forehead after her ill-advised screwing with my mind at Ultron’s bidding; but Steve had finally put his foot down with all his old-fashioned 1940’s charm, and forced the two of us to talk. Wanda had surprised me by attempting to apologise; I had told her to shut it, of course. ‘Sorry’ did not in any way make up for the hell she had put me through, but we had established a mutual respect that had gradually, over time, become first camaraderie and then genuine friendship. She had sworn to me that day that she would never, ever violate my mind again, and to my knowledge, until today, she had kept her word. I had urged her to do so just now out of sheer desperation, unable to think of any other sure way of proving my identity, but was I still so desperate to save Melanie that I would allow it again?</p><p>There could only be one answer to that question. “Do it,” I told her curtly, ignoring the spark of surprise and curiosity in her eyes.</p><p>Red fire curled around me, took me back to the hotel room.</p><p>
  <em>A thin bearded face with a hooked nose, thick brows and cold, grey eyes. I knew that face. But I couldn’t place it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Natalia Romanova. Natasha Romanoff. Black Widow.” He rolled my names around his mouth like tasting a fine wine. “You’re supposed to be dead.” He smiled a cruel smile. “I find it quite… fascinating… that you seem very much alive, after all the tales of how you sacrificed yourself so selflessly. Such a waste. The woman I knew would never have done something so foolishly sentimental.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You don’t know me at all,” I told him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Oh but I do… you might say I helped create you…” </em>
</p><p>I gasped, wincing away from her as the red light receded. That cruel voice resounded maddeningly in my head. Why was it familiar?</p><p>“Got it,” Wanda said, glancing at me in concern. Her hands flew, weaving red light into a 3D image of the man. I looked into that face and felt a memory tickling at the back of my mind, but I still couldn’t pin it down.</p><p>Bruce scanned the image into the computer, and Sam ran the program.</p><p>“The only two other people with no masks in the room were your friend and the man who had hold of her,” Wanda said. “I got them too.” Two more 3D faces appeared in the air before her.</p><p>“Run them all,” I ordered, staring at the image of Melanie’s face. My memory filled in the colours, her golden hair, tanned skin, the dusting of freckles on her nose, her piercing blue eyes… She had such amazing eyes, the exact colour of a cloudless sky…</p><p>I shook my head to clear it, as Rhodes called excitedly, “got something!”</p><p>We crowded around as he flicked two profiles up into the air.</p><p>My gaze was immediately drawn to the image of Melanie… A missing person file, a police report from six years earlier, footage of the wrecked hospital…</p><p>“Your friend sure can do some damage,” Sam murmured, his eyes also on the pictures of the hospital. It looked like a tornado had gone through it.</p><p>“It wasn’t her fault,” I snapped defensively. I turned my attention to the other profile. The tattooed brute that had held Melanie by the throat sneered down at me from the photo. I felt my blood turn to ice as I scanned the information.</p><p>“Huh,” Rhodes muttered. “Nothing on the main man, but the jerk with the tattoos is a Russian. Vernon Skuler. Wanted for murder in three countries, several acts of terrorism, suspected to be working for Russian intelligence…”</p><p>
  <em>“You might say I helped create you…”</em>
</p><p>The shock of realisation seemed to hammer a tiny crack in the iron barrier around my subconscious, and a memory slipped through the gap.</p><p>
  <em>Bright lights. Fingers dispassionately poking and prodding my naked body. Injections that burned like liquid fire beneath my skin. And a bearded doctor in a white coat... He looked into my face as the long needles pierced my skin. A cruel smile curled his lips while I screamed in agony and rage. Cold grey eyes watched me writhe with fascination. “She has much potential, this one,” he remarked to a marble-faced woman by his side. “Very interesting…”</em>
</p><p>I began to tremble, my eyes wide and staring into a face only I could see. I let out an involuntary soft moan of remembered agony.</p><p>“Nat!”</p><p>“Natasha, are you okay?”</p><p>“Nat, what’s wrong?”</p><p>Their concerned voices jumbled together in my head. All I could see was that face. That cruel smile. The agony of the tortures he had ordered flooded my body as though it was happening right now. I could feel the needles in my forearms, feel the restraints burn my flesh as I fought against them, feel the searing pain of chemicals boiling in my blood…</p><p>I doubled over, shivering uncontrollably, my teeth chattering. Hands attempted to guide me into a seat, and I rounded on whoever it was without thinking, snarling like an animal, causing them to release me hurriedly and recoil back in shock. Retreating until my back hit a wall, I wrapped my arms tightly around my chest, shaking with chills.</p><p>“She’s having some kind of fit!”</p><p>“Should we get her to the infirmary? Call a doctor?”</p><p>“No,” I gasped. I squeezed my eyes shut, tried to regain control. Employing an old mental exercise, I purged my mind of emotion, and my shaking stilled. “No. I’m fine.”</p><p>They eyed me dubiously, hesitant to come closer, no doubt wondering if my resurrection had left me mentally unhinged.</p><p>“What happened?” Bruce asked anxiously.</p><p>I sucked in a deep breath. “I know who they are. And where they are taking her.”</p><p>Seven pairs of eyes fixed intently on me.</p><p>“They’re KGB. They’re taking her to the Red Room.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. 8.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>And the shocks just keep coming. Natasha is having a hell of a day.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bruce carried me, cradled in his huge arms, into the enormous common lounge. Though it offended my dignity, I was too wrung out and exhausted to protest. He set me down on a couch. Other gentle hands dropped a blanket around my shoulders, then Wanda sat down beside me, close enough to let me feel that her trust was undiminished without making me uncomfortable. I smiled at her gratefully, closing my eyes in fatigue.</p><p>“Is anyone going to tell me what the Red Room is?” I heard Sam whisper.</p><p>“It’s a KGB training facility,” Bruce explained quietly. “It’s where she was raised.”</p><p>“What, like a Russian spy school?”</p><p>“Not a school,” I said harshly. They all looked at me. Sam looked guilty, as though he was afraid of getting told off for disturbing me.</p><p>“Not a school,” I repeated bitterly, staring into space. “A prison, a death camp. The only way you leave there alive is by becoming a monster like them.”</p><p>“You’re not a monster, Nat,” Pepper said softly.</p><p>I laughed bitterly. “Tell that to the families of all the people I killed.”</p><p>Wanda smacked me on the shoulder. “No, how about you listen to the people you threw yourself off a cliff to <em>save</em>,” she said fiercely. “I wouldn’t be here now if it weren’t for you.”</p><p>“Or me,” said Sam.</p><p>“Or me,” added Maria.</p><p>“Or millions of other people,” Pepper insisted.</p><p>“And that’s just on this planet,” Carol interjected. “You –“ she glanced at Pepper – “and Tony, all of you, restored fifty percent of the universe. Billions of beings, on a thousand planets. All living, a trillion families put back together, because of you.”</p><p>I stared at them all, lost for words.</p><p>“Besides,” Bruce said with a rueful smile, “if you want to play the monster game, may I remind you that my card still trumps yours?”</p><p>I swallowed. This was just too much. In a moment I was going to end up bawling my eyes out like a kid. Clearing my throat awkwardly, I tried to change the subject.</p><p>“So, er, where’s Steve? I thought he would be here.”</p><p>Their faces fell, and they all looked away.</p><p>“He’s okay, isn’t he?” I asked, worried. “Mel told me he survived the battle. Where is he?”</p><p>They looked at each other. Then, they slowly moved aside, parting into two groups. Through the gap they created I saw a table heaped with flowers at the other end of the room. Several framed photos nestled amongst the blossoms.</p><p>As though in a dream, I stood up and walked towards the memorial.</p><p>There was Tony, with his customary cynical smile. Next to the larger frame of his face was a smaller one, of him beside the lake at his country home, lifting his daughter in the air, Pepper laughing at his side.</p><p>There was the photo of me, the same one that had been on the news, and an old photo I vaguely remembered Laura taking of me and Clint on his farm, playing red Indians with his elder two children. The three of us had ganged up on Clint, who lay laughing in the grass, covered in rubber-suckered arrows.</p><p>I swallowed and moved on to the last section. The photo of an old man gazed at me from the frame. I frowned, puzzled. Then I saw the smaller frame beside it. An old black-and-white photo, faded with age. I picked it up, my mouth hanging open.</p><p>It was Steve, in a suit, standing on the steps of a church with a woman at his side, resplendent in a white satin dress. They were laughing, their faces infused with joy, surrounded by frozen speckles of confetti.</p><p>“Steve?” I whispered wonderingly. I inspected the woman. Recognised the face from the photo in the lid of the old compass he used to carry with him everywhere. Agent Peggy Carter, founder of Shield.</p><p>I understood then, what he had done. He had gone back in time to return the infinity stones, Mel had told me. And he had not returned.</p><p>“So I guess you finally took my advice,” I murmured to him softly, tears in my eyes. I had teased him for years about getting a girl. I was so happy for him, even as my heart wept that he was gone. He had finally lived the life he wanted. The life he deserved.</p><p><em>And what about you</em>, a small voice said in the back of my head. <em>Don’t you deserve a life too?</em></p><p>I suddenly saw myself in that wedding dress, laughing as the confetti swirled. The vision took on sound and colour, as vivid as the memories Wanda had dredged up from my past.</p><p>
  <em>“Congratulations,” Sam cried, grinning as he aimed a big handful of confetti at me. Wanda beamed at me from one side in a simple bridesmaid’s dress, next to Clint, who wore a waistcoat and an affectionate smile. Bruce, huge and green, the buttons of his suit straining. Rhodes, Carol, Maria, Thor. T’Challa, with his bodyguard of shaven-headed females. Pepper, her daughter in her arms in a cute white dress, flowers in her hair.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I turned to the person beside me.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Melanie’s beautiful blue eyes laughed back at me, contrasting starkly with white satin and delicate lace. Her arms slipped around my waist. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Congratulations Mrs Macdonald,” she whispered, and kissed me. Her lips were firm and soft and warm. My friends cheered…</em>
</p><p>I dropped the photo, staggering backwards like I’d been shoved.</p><p>“Easy, Nat,” someone said sympathetically. Gentle hands helped me back to the couch. I sank down, dazed. I could still see Melanie before my eyes, in that dress. I could still feel her lips…</p><p>“I know it’s a bit of a shock,” someone said.</p><p>“Shock,” I repeated numbly. “Yeah.” I swallowed and blinked, shaking my head. The vision vanished.</p><p>I sat there, staring into space, my mind numb. The others seemed to realise I needed a minute, and awkwardly began to discuss options for our next move. I should have joined in. But all I could do was sit there as the others tossed ideas back and forth, their voices rising and falling around me. All I could see was Melanie, sitting beside me by a crackling fire, her soft voice rising and falling as she sang old tunes beneath the stars.</p><p>“Nat,” Bruce’s voice came from in front of me, breaking my trance. His green face was gentle. “Nat… can you tell us where the Red Room is?”</p><p>I shook my head blankly. “I… I don’t remember…” I whispered.</p><p>He grimaced sympathetically. “You look all in,” he observed. “Look, why don’t you get some sleep? We’ll keep on the hunt for you. Maria’s going to run a facial recognition trace. If they show their noses where there’s a camera, anywhere in the world, we’ll find them.”</p><p>“Right,” I said mechanically. “Yeah. Thanks.” There was no chance I was going to sleep, but I wasn’t going to protest at some time alone.</p><p>His huge hand patted my shoulder awkwardly. “It’s wonderful to have you back, Nat,” he said gruffly. “I’ve missed you.”</p><p>The emotion in his voice only added fuel to the raging confusion inside my body. He didn’t say anything else. I was grateful. I couldn’t deal with this right now.</p><p>He took me to a room and left me alone.</p><p>I lay on the bed in the darkness and stared up at the ceiling.</p><p>Images danced before my eyes.</p><p>
  <em>Melanie, her golden hair gleaming in the sunshine. Her shrieks as I chased her through the surf, determined to retaliate for the floating ball of water she had just drenched me with, and our laughter as a wave soaked us both while we grappled playfully in the sand... Melanie, injured and vulnerable, her bandaged head cradled in my lap as I sat a vigil in a rough shelter made from debris, anxiously waiting for her to wake… Melanie, her eyes laughing, dancing back and forth on the beach, beckoning me with a cocky gesture, daring me to spar with her... Her body, tense and trembling beneath mine as I pinned her to the sand. Trembling with suppressed desire. Her eyes, full of intense, secret longing, gazing into mine.</em>
</p><p>So much time we had spent together, so much we had shared, and yet I had never realised… How had I been so blind?</p><p>I remembered how she had seemed upset, anxious, as we had got to our feet. As though afraid I had discovered her secret and would be repulsed.</p><p>Countless little unconscious gestures suddenly made sense. The way she would reach out unthinkingly to touch me, and then abruptly pull away. The strange tension when we trained together, almost as though she was nervous of encouraging physical contact, yet at the same time, longed for it. The warmth of her response the few times I had hugged her, yet she always broke off the contact quickly, as though afraid to allow it to continue too long. All the times she had started to say something, then broken off as if she had changed her mind…</p><p>There came a gentle knock, and the door slid open a crack. Wanda peered through. She met my eyes, saw I was awake. She hesitated, then slipped inside the room, closing the door quietly behind her. She didn’t ask permission, just sat cross-legged beside me on the bed.</p><p>I narrowed my eyes at her. I knew why she was here, and it angered me. Just because I had allowed her inside my head today didn’t give her the right to rummage around in there whenever she felt like it.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Wanda said softly. “I would never violate your privacy, Nat, not on purpose, but you’re projecting so strongly I can’t help but see what you see.”</p><p>I frowned. “Projecting?” I repeated suspiciously.</p><p>Wanda shrugged apologetically. “Sometimes people can’t help but shout what they’re thinking. Especially when strong emotions are involved. You’ve never normally had a problem that way, but…” she regarded me sympathetically. “I’m guessing you’ve never felt this strongly about anything before. Or anybody.”</p><p>I looked away, furious that my inner turmoil was so obvious.</p><p>She was silent for a minute, but she did not leave. “Do you want to talk about it?” she said at last.</p><p>I didn’t answer, wrestling with myself. I was still angry at her unwanted intrusion into my thoughts, whether or not it had been voluntary. My first instinct was to treat her to a cool stare, and order her out of the room after extracting a vow she would never tell anyone what she had seen, on pain of death. The old Natasha would have done just that. The old Natasha would not have dreamed of entering into such a personal conversation with anyone, not Clint, not Steve, and certainly not a youngster like Wanda. But the new Natasha, the one who had been reborn on the island, suddenly ached to confide in someone who knew what this felt like, who could help me understand. I was no good at this. I wasn’t one for analysing my feelings; I had been conditioned all my life to ignore them. The whole area of personal relationships was like a book that I had never got around to reading. I had observed enough in others to have the gist of the story, but the details escaped me. I didn’t know if I wanted to talk about it. I didn’t know what to say, where to even start.</p><p>I was still frozen with indecision when Wanda took matters into her own hands.</p><p>“So, I’m guessing Melanie never told you she was gay,” she said lightly.</p><p>I started at her bald statement of the fact I had only now deduced. I sat up slowly, then grudgingly shook my head. “We never talked about… anything like that,” I said reluctantly.</p><p>It had never come up. Why would it? My one query about her family had crashed and burned, and it had never occurred to me to inquire further about her personal life. She had certainly never shown any inclination to talk about that sort of thing. She wasn’t a man, didn’t provoke the almost automatic response to flirt that I felt in male company, and I had never got the hang of girl talk. My reluctance to share personal details about myself was too deeply ingrained to start such a conversation with a woman.</p><p>She sighed, as though a little exasperated at my short-sightedness. “And after everything she went through to save you, the lengths she went to, you never wondered why?”</p><p>I felt a stab of irritation. How dared she take that tone with me? What gave her the right to judge me? I regretted entering into this conversation, angry with myself for wanting to confide in her. She was just a kid…</p><p>Except she wasn’t, I realised, as her gaze did not waver under my displeasure. Those eyes were infinitely older, wiser, more experienced than the eyes of the young woman I remembered. The eyes of someone who had been dragged through the gates of hell, and survived. The eyes of someone who had loved, deeply, and lost. Melanie was right, Wanda wasn’t a kid anymore. She was a powerful, beautiful woman.</p><p>The memory of Melanie’s description of her sent another unfamiliar stab of emotion through me. I frowned, tried to decipher what I was feeling, and with a shock I realised it was resentment. I was <em>jealous</em> that Melanie thought Wanda was beautiful? My mouth fell open as I considered the implications of that.</p><p>Wanda took my hand and squeezed it gently.</p><p>“I’m so confused,” I whispered, immediately ashamed of the admission.</p><p>“Because she loves you, or because she’s a woman?” She smiled crookedly. “Or both?”</p><p>My mind was too busy reeling from her first statement to even process the second.</p><p>Melanie <em>loved</em> me? Wanted me, yes, I could see that, now I had the wit to open my eyes. But <em>love</em>?</p><p>Wanda saw the utter incredulity in my expression and looked impatient. “Of course she loves you! Do you really think she would go through all that to bring you back if she didn’t? She was clearly terrified of how you might react if you found out her secret; she had no hope that you would feel the same, yet she saved you anyway. And today, she could have saved herself, left you to fight your way out, but your life was more important to her than her own...”</p><p>I swallowed. I didn’t know what to think.</p><p>I remembered what she had told me, when describing her bodiless existence, haunting the old Avengers facility. <em>At first, it was just desperation… but after that… I stayed for you… </em></p><p>I remembered the look of guilt when I asked her why I was alive. <em>Because of me, </em>she had said<em>. I couldn’t accept it. </em></p><p>The way she had asked me to forgive her for forcing me to live.</p><p>The look in those intense blue eyes when she gazed at me. Full of secret desire, yes, but also affection, caring, deep understanding… Love.</p><p>Wanda was right. Melanie had saved me because she loved me.</p><p>
  <em>She loved me!</em>
</p><p>A jolt of pure joy ran though me, but it faded quickly, replaced by agonising doubt. I swallowed, confused and uncertain. How could this be possible? How could such a sweet, amazing, <em>good</em> person possibly love someone like me? There was nothing good in me to love.</p><p>“Of course there is,” Wanda sighed, rolling her eyes. “You’re resourceful, and smart, and brave. You’re strong, and kind, and selfless. Why wouldn’t she love you?”</p><p>I shook my head, irritated. “Because that’s not who I am. You missed out some key points; I’m dangerous, and a liar, and a cold blooded killer. I was conditioned for one thing, Wanda, and no matter how much I pretend I’ve changed, that hasn’t. It never will. I’m a monster with hands bathed in blood.” I looked away, despair welling up inside me. “She may love me, but she shouldn’t. I’m no good. I can’t do this. I can’t.”</p><p>“Even though you love her?” Wanda said softly.</p><p>I looked up sharply, my mouth falling open. “I… what?” I asked, my mouth dry.</p><p>Wanda sat back. “You love her,” she repeated. She cocked her head to one side with a small smile. “And you honestly didn’t know, did you?”</p><p>“I… I don’t…”</p><p>“Of course you do,” she told me firmly. “You may not see it, but I do. I know what love feels like, and I feel it in you. You love her.” Her firmness left no room for argument.</p><p>I stared, unseeing, at the wall, my mind a swirling vortex of confusion, spinning around that central, immovable point that was the golden-haired woman with impossible blue eyes.</p><p>The photo of Steve, so happy on his wedding day, taunted me in my mind’s eye. Love, happiness, was for the good, the innocent, the deserving. Not for me. I had always assumed myself to be incapable of love. Deficient in the qualities required. Lacking some elusive component that others seemed to grasp so easily. Even what I had felt for Bruce had not been love. I had long since forgiven him for leaving me behind, accepting that he had been right to do so. Running away to attempt a life with him would never have worked. I had come to realise our attraction had simply been that of one monster for another, and mutual self-loathing was hardly a heathy foundation for a relationship.  I had resigned myself to the fact that love was simply not something I was meant to experience.</p><p>Or perhaps, I had just never looked for it in the right places.</p><p>Did I love Melanie? Did I want her, the way I now knew she wanted me? <em>Could</em> I? I had never looked at a woman that way before…</p><p>I remembered again the day we had first sparred on the beach, lying atop her in the sand, the way I had suddenly become so acutely aware of her body, her breathing, her beautiful eyes. The rush of confused feelings that I hadn’t been able to decipher. That it might be physical attraction had never even crossed my mind. But now, looking back, remembering the feel of her slim body between my legs…</p><p>My own body ached in response, in a way that was completely unfamiliar.</p><p>Physical desire had always been a somewhat abstract thing to me. A natural craving of the body, to be silenced as impersonally as eating when I was hungry or drinking when I was thirsty. It had nothing to do with love. Sex was something I did to scratch an itch, keep those cravings from becoming a distraction. That, or a planned seduction to further a mission. Get closer to a target, provide a distraction, secure an object of importance, extract vital intelligence. Men easily fell victim to my charms, their tongues loosened by an expert touch, blurting out secrets they should have died rather than tell in the throes of passion. My background made me perfect for such tactics; every product of the Red Room was trained to use every means at their disposal to achieve their goal, including sex. I had become notorious for my successful use of that strategy, of taking advantage of the moment when my target was naked and pitifully vulnerable, their weapons out of reach. They had not called me Black Widow for nothing.</p><p>But as extensive as my sexual experience was, one thing I had never considered was being with a woman. That I might want such a thing seemed preposterous, but I couldn’t deny the tightening in my loins as I pictured Melanie’s slim body pressing against me, imagined her warm lips on mine…</p><p>My stomach churned with confused consternation. Had I always had this potential within me? Had I felt this way before, and simply missed it, so used to supressing frivolous desires that it hadn’t even registered? I peeked surreptitiously at Wanda from beneath my lashes. She was indeed beautiful, I conceded to myself, but she didn’t call to me the way Melanie did. I flushed as Wanda smiled knowingly, unembarrassed by my appraisal.</p><p>“No, you haven’t been attracted to other women before, or at least, not that I’ve ever noticed,” she said matter-of-factly. “But, yes, you <em>are</em> attracted to Melanie. Pretty strongly, by the feel of it, if that helps you any.”</p><p>I shook my head, bewildered. “But I… I’ve never… I like <em>men</em>, I’ve always liked men…” I said plaintively. “How can I suddenly –?“</p><p>“You don’t have to be one or the other you know,” she suggested gently. “Plenty of people swing both ways. You didn’t exactly get much chance to experiment, to find out what <em>you</em> wanted, when your choice of partners was dictated by whatever mission you were on.” Her tone was sympathetic rather than judgemental. “Same sex pairings aren’t exactly encouraged where you come from, so it’s not like you would have ever gone looking for something like that. It’s hardly surprising that you haven’t experienced these feelings before.”</p><p>I squirmed, deeply uncomfortable.</p><p>“Besides,” she added pointedly. “We weren’t talking about sex, we were talking about love. Melanie doesn’t just want you, she loves you. Deeply enough to go through all kinds of hell for you.” She smiled sadly. “If you can’t offer her the same love in return, then experimenting may not be the best idea. You’ll only end up hurting her badly.”</p><p>I flinched. The thought of hurting Melanie like that was almost physically painful. I swallowed, conflicted. I didn’t know what to do. I knew I had to get her back, there was nothing more important to me right now than making sure she was safe, but as for the rest… I didn’t know if I could do what Wanda was suggesting. Despite her insistence that what I felt was love, I was not convinced. How was I supposed to know if she was right? I had no idea what love was supposed to feel like…</p><p>“Of course you do,” she chided softly. “You love us don’t you?”</p><p>“Not like <em>that</em>,” I protested.</p><p>“Exactly. So do you love Melanie the same way you love us, your friends, or does it feel different? More than just friendship?”</p><p>I thought about that. Certainly it felt different, if the ache in my body was any indication, but it was also more than just a physical reaction. It wasn’t just her body that called to me, it was the woman herself. She fascinated me like a complex puzzle, constantly surprising me, revealing new mysteries, new riddles to unlock. She was intelligent, and funny, and sweet. So incredibly powerful, and yet so compassionate with it. I remembered how peaceful I always felt around her, the way we could talk for hours, or just sit in companionable silence, content with each other’s company. She knew me so well, understood me on a level no-one else ever had. I remembered how happy it made me to coax a smile onto that serious face, to make her laugh. I remembered the utter desolation I had felt, realising she had sacrificed herself for me. The single-minded desperation to find her that had consumed me from the moment I had arrived at the facility. My fear for her safety that was even now like ice in my gut.</p><p>Was this love? Had I fallen in love with my saviour? The arguments in favour were stacking up, and that terrified me. If I loved Melanie, if I wanted her – and I was finding that conclusion more and more difficult to deny – what did that mean for the future? I cursed myself harshly in Russian, feeling myself floundering. How was it that when faced with an attacking alien or a homicidal robot I could instantly formulate a strategy to deal with it, but when it came to something as supposedly simple as two people in love, I had no idea what to do?</p><p>Wanda smiled. “Let’s look at this logically,” she offered, and my lips twitched unwillingly. Logic was exactly what I needed right now, and it had never been further out of my reach.</p><p>“Assuming we manage to rescue her, which of course we will,” Wanda continued pragmatically. “There are four possible outcomes. One: you can refuse to admit you feel anything for her, and send her away. It will break her heart, but at least it will be a clean break. Two: she stays here and you stay friends, try and keep things platonic. If she fancies you as much as you fancy her I honestly don’t see that lasting, but you’re stubborn, so maybe you could hold out. Maybe.” Her expression said she didn’t think it likely. “Option three: you can indulge in casual sex while refusing to commit, which I personally think is treating her pretty shoddily after all she’s been through, but if you want to convince her you’re a heartless bitch while still getting your end away, that’s the way to do it.” I flinched, and she moved swiftly on. “Or four: you can admit that you both love and want each other, and try and make a relationship work. Which will be scary as hell, but also has a good chance of making you very, very happy.” She raised an eyebrow expectantly, waiting.</p><p>I couldn’t respond. My heart – a heart I had barely known I had – seemed to be taking on a life of its own, and it was waging a furious war with my head, a vicious battle that felt like I was being battered from the inside. My head argued that option one, to send Melanie away, to sever this connection for her own good, was the right and proper thing to do. That no matter what I felt for her, or her for me, it could not be allowed to develop. I was no good for her, and she deserved so much better than me.</p><p><em>But she wants you</em>, my heart fought back, <em>and you want her</em>. The thought of never seeing her again, of living without those eyes, that smile, was agony more acute than any torture I had ever endured. I wasn’t sure I could survive it. But now that I knew I wanted her as much as she wanted me, Wanda was right, if she stayed here, at some point intimacy was inevitable. That meant option two was out, and I couldn’t even stand the thought of option three. That only left option four, and though my heart swelled euphorically at the prospect, my head was in full-blown fight or flight mode. The very idea was ridiculous. Suicidal. Like agreeing to run a mission completely blind, with no intel, no knowledge of the terrain, no backup and no extraction plan. Like trying to infiltrate a desert terrorist cell in an Eskimo costume. Completely laughable. I was about as well-suited to embarking on a relationship as a cat attempting to make a home in a nest of mice. Every instinct I possessed screamed that pursuing that choice would be an unqualified disaster. Melanie shouldn’t want to be close to me, she should be running away from me as fast as she could.</p><p><em>But she isn’t running,</em> my heart insisted. <em>She knows you, understands you better than anyone, and she still wants to be with you.</em></p><p>And, god help me, I wanted to be with her. Wanted it so desperately in this moment that it frightened me. I had shied away from personal ties all my life, and now here I was, actually contemplating forging a connection. And not just any connection, but a physical and emotional partnership with <em>another woman</em>. Two things that, if you had asked me yesterday, I would have said had as much chance of coming to pass as world peace.</p><p>“It doesn’t matter, you know,” Wanda said, sensing my consternation return. “No one will care that she’s a woman.” She smiled mischievously. “I mean, Bruce might get a bit of a shock…”</p><p>I choked a ragged laugh. Bruce was going to be dumbstruck. Not that he had any claim on me, that ship had long since sailed. If I wanted to be with Melanie, he had no right to object, and neither did anyone else for that matter. I found myself flushing, and cursed again. Why did I even care what anyone thought?</p><p>“They will be happy for you,” Wanda murmured. She squeezed my hand. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of loving someone, Nat. Or be afraid to, even if they are not quite what people expect. You should embrace it while you can, because you never know how long you might have.”</p><p>Her voice broke slightly at the last. She wasn’t just mouthing platitudes; I knew she spoke from bitter experience. Her relationship with Vision, after all, had not conformed to any standard precept. Vision had not technically been a man, had not even been totally human, but she had loved him anyway, uncaring of what anyone else might have thought. She loved him still, his absence a gaping hole in her life that nothing could fill, yet she had the courage to continue living, knowing that was what he would have wanted.</p><p>I stared at her, my throat tight and aching. In the face of such humbling bravery, my inner conflict was revealed for what it truly was; cowardice. I wasn’t incapable of love; I was afraid of it. Driving Melanie away, far from being for her own good, would be an act of unspeakable cruelty that she did not deserve, simply because I was too scared to lower my defences and let someone in. Too scared to drop the armour of the heartless bitch who cared for no-one, who had no emotional attachments and therefore could not be manipulated by them. I had hidden behind it for so long, it was terrifying to let it go, even though I knew deep down that that armour was now so riddled with holes it was practically useless. My friends had seen through it long ago, but they allowed me the polite fiction that it was still impenetrable. That it still protected me.</p><p>To let down those defences and admit out loud that I wanted Melanie would take every ounce of courage I possessed, more courage than facing an army of aliens, more courage than racing for the edge of a precipice. But I was the Black Widow. I had lived in the constant presence of fear since my earliest days. It had never beaten me. It had never stopped me from completing a mission, it had not prevented me from choosing the long, painful path of redemption. It had not kept me from sacrificing my life for the people I loved.</p><p>I could not, <em>would not</em>, allow fear to rule me now.</p><p>“You’re right,” I murmured softly. I raised my eyes to Wanda’s, and smiled gratefully. “Thank you.”</p><p>In reply, she did something she had never done before; she hugged me. I stiffened, unable to supress my reflexive discomfort, then relaxed, squeezing her back tightly.</p><p>“We’re going to get her back,” Wanda promised me, so full of joyful certainty that it was impossible not to believe her. “And you’re going to be so happy together.”</p><p>I laughed a little awkwardly, that vision of white dresses and confetti hovering in my mind’s eye. An unlikely future that had just become a tentative possibility.  “Yeah, well,” I muttered, glad she couldn’t see the tears I furiously blinked away. “Don’t be picking out your bridesmaid gown just yet. First I have to get her back.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I wrestled with this chapter for so long! I hope it works!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. 9.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Natasha resorts to desperate measures to find Melanie.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WARNING: there is some dark stuff in this chapter, including explicit scenes of violence and rape. I'm sorry if it makes anyone uncomfortable.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eventually, worn out by so much unaccustomed soul-searching, I managed to doze off, giving my weary body a few hours of fitful rest.</p><p>I awoke in the cold light of dawn, the sky grey and overcast outside the window.</p><p>The others had no new leads as yet, still diligently searching, but the mood was grim. We had so little to go on.</p><p>A plan had formed in my mind as I slept. I knew what I had to do.</p><p>I took Wanda quietly to one side. Bruce followed us, surprisingly discretely for someone of his bulk. His large eyes had rarely left me this morning, as though he felt like if he looked away, I might vanish. I didn’t know whether to be touched or irritated by that.</p><p>“We need information,” I told them grimly. “I’m the only one here who has set foot in the Red Room. But it’s all locked away up here.” I tapped the side of my head. “Wanda, I need you to send me back there. I need you to help me remember.”</p><p>She looked at me unhappily.</p><p>“Nat, are you sure about this?” Bruce muttered, worried. “That place… whatever you remembered really seemed to freak you out.” I knew he wasn’t just talking about yesterday, and Wanda looked wretched. Back when she had been working with Ultron, she had messed with my mind. She had sent me back to the Red Room then, and freaked out didn’t even start to cover my reaction. I had been shaken to the point of catatonia for hours, and it had taken months for the vivid memories she had dragged out of me to fade.</p><p>She gazed at me now, biting her lip, her eyes pleading. I knew she desperately didn’t want to put me through that again, and equally fervently did not want to see it. My memories were the stuff of nightmares, and she had already seen more than she wanted to.</p><p>“Some memories are best left buried,” Bruce insisted.</p><p>I swallowed hard. I knew that. I wished, desperately, that I could leave them buried. I had spent half my life fleeing those horrors, and most of my nights getting little or no rest because of them. I no wish to face them in the cold light of day, and certainly no desire to inflict them on poor Wanda. But there was no other option. Melanie needed me, and my memories were the only way to find her.</p><p>“I have to,” I said steadfastly. I looked at Wanda. “Will you help me?”</p><p>With immense reluctance, she nodded.</p><p>I breathed deeply to calm myself. “Okay then.”</p><p>We adjourned, the three of us, back to my room. Too large for a chair, Bruce hunkered down on the floor, blocking the door. I laid on my back on the bed and tried to relax. I felt like I was lying on broken glass.</p><p>Wanda sat gingerly on the edge of the bed beside me. “Ready?” she asked, looking as if she was doing this very much against her better judgement.</p><p>I nodded. “Whatever happens, whatever you see, don’t pull me out,” I told her harshly. “Not until you find what we need.”</p><p>I looked away from her grimace, and met Bruce’s anxious eyes steadily. “Hold me down if you have to.”</p><p>He looked sick. “Nat, I really don’t think –“</p><p>I ignored him, refocussing on Wanda. “Just do it,” I said quietly. “Please.”</p><p>She hesitated, then reluctantly leaned forward to touch her fingertips gently to my temples. Red light kindled in her eyes as crimson smoke curled from between her fingers, swirled around my head. The room faded into scarlet mist.</p><p> </p><p>****</p><p> </p><p>I walked down a sweeping oak stairway, my fingers whispering lightly over the carved handrail. Blank-faced girls in a grey and white uniform passed me, climbing the stairs in the other direction. Reaching the bottom, I turned and crossed a marble hallway, passed through a set of antique double-doors.</p><p>A line of dancers performed ballet moves in perfect synchronisation to the rippling notes of a piano, sweeping across the polished floor. A group of children knelt to one side, unnaturally still, watching without expression.</p><p>“Again,” a man’s voice clipped.</p><p>Again the lithe figures danced.</p><p>“Again.”</p><p>Over and over and over.</p><p>“You’ll break them,” I whispered.</p><p>“Only the breakable ones,” a woman’s voice answered.</p><p>Again and again and again the girls danced, until finally one of them faltered, her ankle overturning. She slipped sideways a step, a tiny involuntary hiss of pain escaping.</p><p>The sound of the gunshot was deafening, made my heart lurch. The girl crumpled to the floor, her lifeless eyes open and staring, blood dripping from the hole in her forehead. The tinkling of the piano never wavered. I looked to the side. The man in the grey suit placed the gun back down on top of the piano. The group of watching children moved no muscle. One of them had auburn hair, scraped back into a ponytail, green eyes that stared blankly ahead. I felt a shiver of recognition.</p><p>“Again,” the man ordered.</p><p>Abruptly I looked out of a child’s eyes. My knees hurt from the hard floor, my body ached with the tension of holding myself still, but I did not move a muscle, my mind frozen with the dread that the next gunshot might be for me, that my body might be the next to crumple, my blood the next to spill over the polished floor. I must never, ever allow myself to fail.</p><p>“With failure comes death,” the woman intoned behind me.</p><p>I stood in the centre of the floor, sighting down the barrel of a gun at the targets before me. I squeezed the trigger several times in quick succession, ignoring the deafening rapport the shots made in the finely tuned acoustics of the room, making my eardrums ache. The bullets ripped a tight cluster of holes in the bull’s eye of the circular target.</p><p>Another target, a human silhouette of black paper. The thundering music of the pistols in my hands as I blew holes in all the lethal spots.</p><p>A struggling, moaning human form in a brown tweed jacket, head hooded, arms tied to a chair. My fixated gaze dispassionately located the place his heart beat like a panicked bird inside his body. My finger squeezed the trigger, ending his struggles forever.</p><p>The targets vanished, and I faced another girl. Silent witnesses in their grey and white uniforms lined the walls. We circled, our bare feet padding on the polished wood. Her name was Suzanne, I recalled. We had been brought here at around the same time, trained side by side ever since. I knew what I had to do, and I felt no remorse. There was no choice. Failure was death.</p><p>“You will not fail,” the woman’s voice murmured. “You are like marble.”</p><p>I stood over Suzanne’s broken body, my foot still resting against her throat from the final blow that had crushed her windpipe.</p><p>“She was weak,” the woman whispered in my mind. “You are strong.”</p><p><em>This isn’t real</em>, something whispered in my mind. <em>It’s a memory. Just a memory. Keep searching.</em></p><p>Time seemed to fast forward, years passing in a blur. Every hour filled with training, testing, pushing my body and mind. Every skill I acquired was replaced with a new technique to master, another endless river of information to absorb. My only reward for success my continued existence. Others failed, paid the price. The number of faces I had known from childhood dwindled, inexorably, and new, younger, faces replaced them.</p><p>As the force that held me in thrall searched, it stirred the murky waters of memory, causing vivid moments to bubble to the surface.</p><p>Grovelling at the feet of the woman, her displeasure almost as excruciating as the broken ribs and lacerated skin being left in the wake of the heavy boots of her grizzled henchman. Despite the agony, I held the position she commanded, every vulnerable part of my skinny, undeveloped body open to his brutal blows.</p><p>“You deserve this punishment, Natalia,” the woman intoned, gesturing for the man to pause in his bloody work. “You know that don’t you?”</p><p>“Yes Madame,” I moaned, holding position though my muscles screamed for mercy, tears wetting my cheeks. “I’m sorry. I should not have helped Ana practice. But she’s so small. She’s not strong enough to complete the exercise. I was only trying to help her get stronger.”</p><p>“If she is not strong enough to succeed alone, then she must suffer the penalty,” the woman said coldly. “Such is the natural course of the universe. The strong survive, the weak die. To aid the weak is to become weak. Are you weak, Natalia?” She gave a curt nod to the silent man, and the beating resumed, until every nerve was on fire and it felt like every bone in my body was shattered. Maintaining the position I had been commanded to hold should have been impossible, yet somehow I succeeded, knowing that to fail would bring instant execution. I was not weak. I was strong, and I would survive.</p><p>Another time, another test, another minor infraction. I sat in a dark classroom with three others, each at our own bare little desk, my eyes fixated in fierce concentration as I watched the footage being projected onto the blank wall. A lengthy conversation between two seemingly inconsequential Englishmen, one of them puffing on a fat cigar.</p><p>“Enough,” the dark man in the grey suit barked, and the projector was immediately shut off. “Now then,” the man said coolly. “Viktor. You may begin.”</p><p>The boy in the chair next to me, a good year or more older than me and all lean muscle, stood up and began to recite the conversation we had just watched, verbatim.</p><p>“Excellent,” the man said approvingly, when the boy successfully continued for several minutes without a mistake. Viktor resumed his seat, a tiny but fervent sigh of relief escaping his lips.</p><p>The man’s eyes fell on me. “Natalia.”</p><p>I rose carefully and began my recital, taking over at the point Viktor had left off. For a short time things went smoothly, but when I reached the point where I expected to be allowed to stop, the man said nothing. A slight sheen of sweat beaded on my forehead as I forced myself to continue to repeat every word exactly as it had played out, desperately straining my memory. Then, disaster. I stumbled over a word or two, unable to recall which was correct.</p><p>The man’s eyes narrowed. “Unacceptable,” he snapped, cutting me off in mid-sentence. I swallowed in sudden fear, though my training held me motionless, my face expressionless. Showing fear would only increase the punishment.</p><p>“Come here.”</p><p>I mechanically stepped out of line, moving to stand before him. The man reached out and grasped my chin roughly, forcing me to look into his eyes. “Mistakes are unacceptable,” he said, his eyes full of cold triumph.</p><p>I fought down the urge to talk back. To accuse him of purposefully making this test impossible would only get me killed. Better to take my punishment in silence, and remain breathing. “You are not a child anymore, Natalia,” he said sternly, eyes lingering over my body where curves had recently started to develop. “You must learn that leniency will no longer be applied. Perfection is expected; any less is failure.” His other hand suddenly flashed out, grasping my hair. Hauling me bodily to the lone desk at the front of the room, he smashed my face into it with effortless force. He pinned me there, bent over the desk. “Viktor,” his voice sounded above my head as I fought to breath through the blood dribbling out of my nose. “You have done well to pass this test. Come have your reward.”</p><p>Terror flooded through me and I involuntarily jerked under his huge hand, mindlessly squirming to get free. No. Please no. I knew what was about to happen, had watched it happen to others, but this was the first time it had happened to me. The man easily held me in place, giving my head another brutal bang against the table top that left me seeing stars. I felt Viktor’s presence behind me, his soft murmur of thanks. I knew I could expect no mercy. Pity was for the weak. His hands were eager, his breathing heavy as he quickly stripped my lower body and lowered his own trousers.</p><p>“Alyona. Continue the recital,” the mans voice intoned above me, drowning out my muffled cry of pain as my last sliver of innocence was forcibly taken from me. There was the hurried scrapping of a chair being pushed back, then the voice of another trainee, continuing to recite the meaningless words, raising her voice to be heard over the rocking, slapping, grunting sounds from the front of the room…</p><p>The force that held me recoiled violently, and I came close to waking, for a brief second existing in another place, another time, before a feeling of desperate resolve forced the red mist to descend again.</p><p>“You are ready,” the woman said with the ghost of a smile. I glowed, inwardly euphoric at her hard-won approval. “Time to see what you are truly made of…”</p><p>I followed the woman through the large building. Past rooms where other girls practiced with weapons, rooms where young men wrestled and fought to the death. Down a long set of stairs, and along a white, windowless corridor. Two others paced behind me, a boy and a girl. All three of us in our mid-teens, although the other two were perhaps a year or two older than I. We marched in single file through thick steel doors into a dark, busy room, full of gleaming equipment and harsh smells. People in lab coats bustled about a still form swathed in medical plastic on a gurney, surrounded by wires and trays of implements.</p><p>“Goravitch,” the woman intoned, a summons.</p><p>“So, you have brought me some more candidates?” a voice drawled lazily.</p><p>A man loomed out of the darkness as we lined up silently. He moved along the line, the woman at his side, peering intently into each face. Then he was before me. His bearded face regarded me, his grey eyes cold as ice beneath his heavy brows. He took hold of my chin in a latex-gloved hand, tilting my head. Blood dripped from his fingers, left marks that itched like paint on my skin. I met his gaze without flinching, staring emotionlessly back at him. His lips curved. “This one is very interesting. Such strength.”</p><p>“We have high hopes for her,” the woman said. “She may be one of our finest weapons. But a weapon can always be improved. Made even more deadly.”</p><p>“Or broken,” Goravitch said. The gleam in his eyes was almost sexual in intensity.</p><p>“Only the weak break. The strong will survive. Become unstoppable. I leave it to you to find out which.”</p><p>“Indeed,” Goravitch murmured. He let go of my chin. “Let us begin.”</p><p>Leather straps held my naked body firmly. The long needles slid under the skin of my forearms. My fists clenched as liquid fire burned through my veins. I screamed without conscious control, every particle of my mind overwhelmed with agony. After a time, I ceased to scream. It did no good. The weak break. I was strong. I would not break. I would survive.</p><p>I shied away from the pain, again almost waking. For a moment, I again remembered that this wasn’t real. This was a dream, a memory. That I was searching for something… something I had yet to find.</p><p>The red mist descended again.</p><p>Time skipped ahead, leaving no impression behind but an echo of rage and despair, and a sense of endless, pointless torment. Concrete memory eluded my grasp, and the force made no attempt to follow as it slithered away into the darkest reaches inside my head, my mind instinctively protecting me from having to process a level of depravity greater than anything I had thus far endured.</p><p>A few faint recollections lingered outside the fortress my mind built. I sensed there were pauses between the bouts of agony. Stretches of silence. A fleeting image of sitting unmoving, on a hard bed in a grey, empty room, gazing unseeing at the featureless walls.</p><p>Occasionally, I was alert enough to discern that I was not alone in my misery. A few faces stood out vividly, the memories crisp and sharp against the muddy backdrop of my own pain. Vaguely, I sensed a lack within myself. I should have felt sympathy with the suffering of others like me, but I felt nothing at all as I watched them fail.</p><p>A young man, his muscular body naked and restrained to an upright gurney, bellowed his agony as red fluid boiled down tubes and pumped through the long needles embedded in his arms. The tendons in his neck and veins in his massive biceps stuck out like chords as he strained against the thick straps. Electrodes on his body hooked him up to a monitor, which beeped faster and faster as the jagged waves of his heartbeat grew larger and closer and closer together. Then his eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped, hanging limp. His heartbeat line flattened, the monitor emitting a continuous whine.</p><p>“Hmmmm,” Goravitch’s voice murmured in the darkness, disappointment evenly mixed with pleasure.</p><p>A girl hung, sobbing, pleading for mercy, from chains against a concrete wall. She moaned pitifully as the man before her pinned her against the wall with his own body. A crowd of men lounged around, drinking from bottles and laughing. Some looked relaxed, cruelly satisfied, others watched with eager anticipation, awaiting their turn. She screamed as her current tormentor forced himself into her, hips grinding in the ancient, primal rhythm.</p><p>“Shame,” Goravitch’s voice said speculatively. “So easily broken. A flawed weapon, that one.”</p><p>“We have no use for the weak,” the woman’s voice replied.</p><p>Time passed and other voices screamed in pain, echoing around the walls of my cell. Still I felt nothing, until my own torment began again, and my fury returned.</p><p>Finally, the marble-faced woman reappeared.</p><p>“It’s time,” she said, and I felt a tiny needle of hope. Perhaps, after all, she had not abandoned me. Perhaps I had not failed…</p><p>Goravitch dared to argue with her. “Taking her now will seriously hinder my work. She is unique…”</p><p>“Indeed she is,” the woman stated. “But your methods are not working. I will take her back now.”</p><p>“A few more tests,” Goravitch pleaded.</p><p>“No. Enough, Antonin,” the woman rebuked sharply. “She has proven herself beyond any doubt. As for the rest… we will see. It is time for a different strategy.” She turned to me, and held out her hand. “Come,” she said, and my heart leapt at the look of approval. “You have done well. Now come have your reward.”</p><p>Returning to the austere marble halls above felt like freedom, and the rewards I was granted almost made the time below worth it. Rather than my narrow bunk in the chill dormitory, I found myself in a simple but comfortable room. I discovered luxuries I had barely known existed, the soft down of feather pillows, the warmth of roaring fires. The taste and smell of hot food overwhelmed my senses; my very skin seemed to sigh in sheer bliss under hot steamy water and scented soaps. The memories of pain dwindled in the face of such privileges. The daylight hours were filled with exercise as I obsessively strove to regain the muscles that had atrophied through inactivity.</p><p>The woman visited me often, her approval for my efforts sustaining my determination. Once I regained my strength, my training began once again, but with a marked difference. I had proven myself a valuable asset, and as a consequence, death was no longer the automatic penalty for failure.  I still had to fear punishment, the woman never failing to discipline me for the least infraction, whether real or imagined, but I no longer dreaded execution. Slowly, gradually, my confidence grew. I was strong, unbreakable. I had proven myself. I would never fail. I would do whatever it took to succeed. The woman’s lips twitched faintly, and I basked in her approval as I mastered every task she set. I was no longer fighting for survival, no longer prey. I was the hunter now, the falcon perched on the arm of my master. Soon she would release me into the world. I would leave her hand like the swift wings of death, fly where she bid, swoop down on any target she named. There was nowhere they could hide from one of my skill.</p><p>I stood on a carpet of fallen leaves outside the white stone mansion. Targets surrounded me, and I moved faster than thought, my fingers pumping the triggers of the guns in my hands. The targets fell like dominoes, perfect holes in every centre. Masked men in black attacked from all sides, and I took them out with cold-blooded precision. I felt nothing as I broke them. They were nothing, merely targets to be extinguished. The woman clicked the stopwatch as the last body crumpled to the grass.</p><p>“Excellent,” she said, filling me with a fierce satisfaction. “You are ready for the final tests. Once you pass, there remains only your graduation ceremony.”</p><p>The graduation ceremony. The ritual surgery would sterilise me. Make life simpler. Remove the potential for complications. An assassin could not risk falling foul of debilitating conditions like pregnancy. There was no room in their lives for family. The natural ebb and flow of a women’s monthly cycle was a needless distraction.</p><p>It made perfect sense, yet I felt a strange apprehension.</p><p>Madame B seemed to sense my reluctance. “The ceremony is necessary, for you to take your place in the world.”</p><p>I stared bleakly across the lawn. Between the trees at the other side, I could just make out the wide driveway, leading to the main gate. A large sign showed a stylised drawing of a ballet dancer, balanced on one pointed toe. <em>The Botai Academy</em>, it said, written in large curling letters beside it. A false image, proclaimed to the world on the other side of that gate. A world I had no memory of, and which glided serenely by, unknowing and uncaring of the suffering and menace hidden behind the walls of this unprepossessing country estate.</p><p>“I have no place in the world,” I said tonelessly.</p><p>Madame B smiled.</p><p>“Exactly.”</p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p>I sat bolt upright.</p><p>My stomach heaved as the red mist faded, and I rolled off the bed. Sprinting for the bathroom, I bent over the sink and retched. My hands, gripping the basin, shook.</p><p>“Nat? You okay?” Bruce asked tentatively.</p><p>I retched again, then stared into the sink, breathing heavily.</p><p>“Nat?” Bruce asked again.</p><p>“I need to hit something,” I spat through gritted teeth.</p><p>On my way downstairs this morning I had noted the residence wing included a private training room, just off the lounge. The door smacked against the wall as I stalked inside. Weights, bars, machines, a boxing ring, and a large, heavy punchbag suspended from a chain. The familiar surroundings took the edge off the turmoil, but adrenaline still pounded through my veins. I didn’t stop to bother with wrist protection, just threw myself at the punchbag as though it were the bitterest enemy I had ever faced. Sweat began to bead on my forehead as my fists beat a thunderous tattoo.</p><p>“Ah, Nat?” Bruce spoke up uncertainly from the doorway. I ignored him.</p><p>“Give her a minute, Bruce,” Wanda said behind him, her voice strained. “Let her get it out of her system.”</p><p>She had seen what I had seen. Through the lingering effects of her mind touch, I could feel her composure was badly shaken, her stomach rolling with nausea. She understood what I was feeling. What I needed.</p><p>Faster and faster, harder and harder I punched. I punished the bag relentlessly, raging against the injustice and the heartlessness of the pitiless monsters who had taken a child and turned her into a killer. Railing against the cruelty, the unfairness of a world where helpless little girls were abused and beaten into becoming lethal weapons, where every bit of innocence was ripped from them, violently and by force. I felt the hatred and bloodlust I had felt enduring pointless torture boiling in my blood. It felt toxic, like poison. Like a demon had awakened, uncurling from where it had slept deep within my soul. I beat it ruthlessly into submission, caging it and locking it away, and the rage I forced out through my muscles, purging it with reckless aggression into the unfortunate punchbag, which began to take on the appearance of an overcooked, exploded sausage, stuffing leaking out in a dozen places. With a final explosive heave, I kicked the bag clean off its chain and sent it hurtling across the room. It hit the mirrored surface of the opposite wall, and the mirror shattered in an explosion of glass, falling fragments pattering on the floor like rain. The bag slumped. The wave of glass shards settled and stilled.</p><p>I remained in position, heart pounding.</p><p>Nobody moved for a long moment.</p><p>“Okay,” Bruce said, breaking the silence. “And they say <em>I </em>had anger issues?”</p><p>Abruptly I came back to full alertness, as though my rational mind had been stretched away on a length of elastic and now snapped back into place.</p><p>I straightened up and turned, meeting my friends’ anxious eyes.</p><p>“Let’s get the team together,” I said evenly, walking past them. I paused, glanced back. “I’m going to need a suit. And a vodka.”</p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p>I tossed back another shot of vodka, slamming the glass down on the desk.</p><p>“Easy, Nat,” Rhodes muttered worriedly, his eyes on the steadily decreasing level of liquor in the bottle. “This is no time to get drunk.”</p><p>“Please. I’m Russian,” I retorted dismissively. “It takes a lot more to get me drunk than you soft Americans.” Although on reflection, I thought sourly, my remarkably high tolerance for alcohol was probably a sign of something far more sinister than an inherited constitution. Melanie had said there were distinct abnormalities to my cell structure, abnormalities she was sure were the result of chemical cocktails forced into me in my youth, a serum not unlike what Steve had been changed by, albeit not as extreme. Poor Steve’s metabolism had been enhanced to such efficiency that he couldn’t get drunk at all. I grimaced to myself, wondering how I could have failed to make that connection before. At least I could comfort myself that I wasn’t completely denied that release. Despite knowing Rhodey was right, this was no time to get drunk, I was hard pressed to restrain the urge to neck the whole bottle. My nerves were on a razors edge, and I badly wanted some of that liquid courage people talked about right now.</p><p>I stretched to settle the thick, bullet resistant material of my field suit. It didn’t fit me as well as my own, being one of Maria’s spares, but the weight of two hand guns in their holsters, the ammunition packs at my belt, the knives in my boots, the shock devices at my wrists, all were comfortingly familiar.</p><p>I tapped a few keys and brought up the location I wanted on the screen, flicking it up so everyone could see it.</p><p>“Here,” I said calmly. “The Botai Academy, just outside of Moscow.”</p><p>“A Ballet school?” Rhodes said dubiously.</p><p>
  <em>Lithe figures danced in perfect synchronisation across a polished floor…</em>
</p><p>“It’s a front,” I pointed out the obvious. I enhanced the satellite feed, spinning the orientation. A wireframe model of the building appeared, revealing the existence of extensive underground facilities beneath the manor, running like roots of a diseased tree in every direction.</p><p>“So this is where the KGB train assassins,” Maria said thoughtfully.</p><p>“Amongst other things.”</p><p>“What kind of other things?” Sam asked cautiously.</p><p>“His name is Antonin Goravitch,” I said evenly. I brought up the image of the face Wanda had rendered for the computer up next to the footage of the academy. “He’s a scientist. Of the clinically insane kind.”</p><p>“Illegal human experimentation,” Bruce guessed with a heavy sigh.</p><p>I raised my glass in salute.</p><p>“He’s making super-soldiers for the Russians?” Rhodes demanded, alarmed.</p><p>I downed my shot. “I don’t think he’s ever actually succeeded, or we would know <em>all</em> about it by now. And I’m not sure if he’s specifically trying to create an enhanced, or if he’s just fascinated by the whole process. How far the human body and mind can be pushed. What will cause one to break and another to become stronger...” I shrugged, and poured another shot. “The KGB give him the Red Room trainees, once they reach a certain stage, to… road-test them, see if they are flawed. To see if they can be broken. And to see if they can be enhanced.” I shivered. “He prefers breaking them. He enjoys it. Normal people break too easily for him. The Red Room candidates are more of a challenge.”</p><p>“I don’t even want to know how you go about breaking a trained killer,” muttered Rhodes.</p><p>“Chemicals. Pain. Extreme heat, cold, pressure. Isolation. Deprivation. Gang rape. Surgery. Brainwashing.” I shrugged. “Whatever works. He takes them apart. Pumps them full of chemicals to see if their heart will burst. He enjoys it when they scream.”</p><p>“I said I didn’t want to know.” Rhodes looked sick.</p><p>I shrugged again. “The KGB find it useful. A way of weeding out flawed tools before they are put to use. The weak ones fail. The ones who survive are unbreakable.”</p><p>“Like steel from a forge,” Wanda said with a shudder.</p><p>“I don’t get it,” Maria said, perplexed. “Why go to all that trouble to train them, only to let some crazed scientist loose on your own troops? It makes no sense.”</p><p>“There are a lot of orphans in Russia,” I said tonelessly. “They are easily replaced. And most of them die in training before they even get to that point. They aren’t interested in raising an army. They are looking for the elite. A select few.”</p><p>“How many survive training?” she asked, aghast.</p><p>I shrugged. “Maybe one in twenty. Maybe less.”</p><p>I looked determinedly away from their pained expressions. I didn’t want their pity, their horrified sympathy for what I had gone through. Now that I had the information I needed, I refused to dwell on them, burying them as deeply as I was able, though doubtless I would be revisiting them in my nightmares. I could not change the past, and agonising over the wrongs I had suffered was a waste of time and energy. The present was what mattered, always. I was on a mission.</p><p>Sam cleared his throat awkwardly. “Okay so mad scientist, check. Building full of assassins, complete with its own top-of-the-range underground torture chamber, check, check. Anyone want to explain what our crazy acquaintance was doing in Scotland of all places? If he’s happy chewing on KGB recruits, what does he want with your friend Melanie?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” I answered, swallowing back bile as I tried not to think about what might be happening to her. “But I can guess. Why do any of these foul organisations want an enhanced? AIM, Hydra, the KGB, they’re all the same. Whether they’re planning to experiment on her, dissect her, brainwash her, doesn’t matter. We have to stop it.”</p><p>I felt Wanda tense beside me. Out of desire for revenge for the deaths of their parents, she and her twin brother had volunteered for the human enhancement program run by Hydra. The two of them had been the only survivors of that program. She had come out with her powerful gift, but she never talked about the process that had given it to her. If Goravitch captured her… whatever she had experienced with Hydra would be a picnic in the park by comparison.</p><p>“He was in Scotland to capture Melanie,” I told them. “He sent agents to bring her in before, after she caught his attention wrecking that hospital, but the Snap interrupted his plans. When you brought everyone back, he went back to looking for her. He is patient. He knew she would go back to Edinburgh, eventually. And when we showed up, he recognised me. I was a big bonus catch for him, or would have been, if Mel hadn’t zapped me out of there.” I swallowed, still tortured by that last look of desperate determination on her face. “He seemed to take a personal interest in me.  He was very interested to find out why I am alive. I think he thinks one of his experiments when I was at the Red Room might have allowed me to survive the fall. He wants to find out.” I shrugged. “And if I survive that, the KGB would probably reward him handsomely for handing me over. I’ve had the death mark on me for almost two decades; I imagine the price has gone up considerably.”</p><p>“That’s not going to happen, Nat,” Bruce growled. “We just got you back. No way is anyone taking you away from us again. They’ll have to do it over my dead body.”</p><p>“And mine,” said Wanda fiercely.</p><p>“Mine too,” said Sam.</p><p>“Get in line,” came a new voice.</p><p>I swung around, startled.</p><p>Clint Barton stood in the doorway, his rugged face wracked with emotion as he gazed at me.</p><p>I stared at him for a long moment, while the Earth seemed to momentarily shudder to a halt on its axis. Then I shoved the vodka bottle aside and ran straight into his arms. He squeezed me so tight I couldn’t breathe. Finally he pushed me away, holding me at arm’s length so he could look me up and down. I could see tears glimmering in his eyes.</p><p>Then he punched me, hard, in the face.</p><p>“Ow!” I doubled over, clapping my hands to my nose. I looked up at him indignantly.</p><p>“That’s for not letting me take the fall,” Clint said grimly. Then he hugged me again.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” I murmured. Tears were welling in my own eyes. So much for the monster assassin - I was becoming an emotional wreck.</p><p>It took an embarrassing minute or two for us both to regain our composure. Much to my relief, he made no further reference to Vormir, proceeding straight to business.</p><p>“Okay,” Clint said, folding his arms. He looked around. “Banner called me in. What’s the play?”</p><p>I raised an eyebrow at Bruce accusingly. He shrugged. “I knew you’d want to see him.”</p><p>Fair enough. And I had to admit, his presence was a huge boost to my confidence. Typically of Clint, he asked no questions, made no demands. Just cut straight to the current crisis.</p><p>“You heard the man,” Rhodes said. “What’s the plan, boss?”</p><p>I looked at Maria.</p><p>Everyone else looked at me.</p><p>“What?” I exclaimed in shock. “No way, I’m not in charge, Maria’s in command here!”</p><p>“Well I shouldn’t be,” Maria herself interrupted. “Not anymore, not now you’re back. You outrank me.”</p><p>I stared at her in disbelief. “In what universe?” I demanded. “You outrank me, you’ve <em>always</em> outranked me, you’re Fury’s second!”</p><p>“And you were Steve’s second,” Maria pointed out calmly. She smiled without rancour. “And let’s face it, Nat, the only reason I became Fury’s second was because you were far too valuable in the field to be wasted as a deck officer.”</p><p>“Fury put you in charge!”</p><p>“Only because you weren’t here,” she returned. “And none of the others would take the job.” The rest all nodded fervently, with expressions ranging from disgust to downright panic at the suggestion. Maria shook her head and carried on. “I still told him putting me in command of the Avengers was a stupid idea. Who am I to tell superheroes what to do? Now Steve is gone, we need another hero to step up, and that my girl, is you.”</p><p>“I’m not a superhero,” I protested, an old irritation resurfacing. “I don’t have powers!”</p><p>“Says the woman who came back from the dead,” Sam muttered.</p><p>I rounded on him. “That was Melanie, not me!”</p><p>“It doesn’t matter,” Maria interrupted firmly. “You’re an Avenger, I’m not. You should take command.”</p><p>“I’m not a commander! I’m an assassin, for Pete’s sake!”</p><p>“Actually, you’re both,” Rhodes said, a sardonic smile twitching at his lips. “Don’t forget who was in charge here during the Decimation. You were Commander-in-chief then.”</p><p>“Only because Steve decided he had better things to do! I notice you weren’t looking to me for orders once he was back in the picture!”</p><p>“Perhaps,” Rhodes admitted. “But Steve is gone, Nat.” He voice was sad, but firm. “You were his second. You outrank all of us. You have the experience and the ability. You are his rightful successor.” He smiled, and saluted smartly. “You’re the boss now.”</p><p>I stared speechlessly as first Maria, then Sam, Bruce and Wanda followed suit.</p><p>I cast a glance at Clint, seeking his support, but he just smiled, indicating he was in agreement. He stood up straight, bringing his heels together, and copied the others’ salute. “You’re the boss, boss,” he said.</p><p>I swallowed a lump in my throat. “I… I guess I am,” I murmured, feeling dazed. I looked around at the team<em>, my</em> team, who waited expectantly, with total confidence in the leadership they had just handed to me.</p><p>Bruce. Maria. Wanda. Sam. Rhodes. Clint.</p><p>“Where’s Carol?” I asked, suddenly realising I hadn’t seen her since last night.</p><p>“She had to go deal with a situation on – well some planet whose name I can’t pronounce.” Rhodes spread his hands apologetically. “Big picture I guess.”</p><p>“Fine.” I wasn’t going to hold it against Carol. She had a lot of planets to look after. I was honestly surprised that she had come back for their little anniversary get-together at all. “Pepper?”</p><p>“She had to get back to Morgan, but she said to call her in when we have a plan.”</p><p>I shook my head. I couldn’t get used to the idea of sweet Pepper Potts stepping into Iron Man’s shoes. Running his company, yes, she had done that for years with the flair of a master strategist, but I simply could not imagine her physically going toe to toe with Russian assassins. But she had the suit, and I wasn’t going to pass up on any offers of help. Not with Melanie’s life on the line.</p><p>“Make the call,” I told Rhodes. “Maria, you may not think you’re an Avenger, but I’m here to tell you otherwise. If I’m going to take command, I’m going to need a deputy who knows what she’s doing! Run back end from here. We need a bird’s eye view.” I turned to the others as Maria saluted again, grinning.</p><p>“The rest of us are going in.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. 10.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The things we do for love.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WARNING: there is some dark stuff in this chapter, including explicit scenes of violence and rape. I'm sorry if it makes anyone uncomfortable.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The cloaked quinjet sped across the Atlantic.</p><p>“Maria, any sign of movement?” I asked her figure on the screen. Maria was back at the facility watching the live feed from the Stark satellite we had trained on the Botai Academy.</p><p>She shook her head. “Quiet as the grave so far.”</p><p>“Keep watching,” I ordered tensely. I left the cockpit, where Clint sat solid as a rock at the controls, and joined the others in the back. I sat down next to Pepper, who looked slightly green but determined, clad in her shining blue metal suit.</p><p>“How’s Morgan?” I asked.</p><p>She shot me a tight smile. Fear for her daughter was clear in her eyes. I suddenly hated myself for bringing her into this. That little girl didn’t deserve to lose another parent. Pepper forestalled any apology I might have made.</p><p>“She’s good,” she said, her expression warning me to say nothing of what was on my mind. “Happy brought Peter over to visit, so they are watching her.”</p><p>“Peter?” I said, puzzled, trying to place the name.</p><p>She rolled her eyes slightly. “Spiderman.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah, right.” Tony’s young protégé.</p><p>She smiled. “He visits a lot. He’s a good kid. And he’s great with Morgan. She adores him. She calls him spider-monkey. Treats him like her own personal play gym. He doesn’t seem to mind. He’s devoted to her.” Her expression hardened. “I know he would die before he let anything happen to her.”</p><p>I nodded. Young Peter Parker had idolised Tony, who had taken him under his wing, looked out for him like the father he didn’t have. No, Peter would never let anything happen to his daughter. He might be young, but he had already proven his worth in battle.</p><p>“Guy’s I’ve got something,” Maria’s slightly tinny voice rang out through the speakers.</p><p>I shot to my feet. “Go ahead.”</p><p>“Someone just walked out the front doors,” Maria reported. “Looks like the guy with the tattoos. Skuler.”</p><p>“Show me.”</p><p>The live footage sprang to life in the air before my face. I watched a bulky, heavily tattooed figure saunter around the corner of the manor towards some outbuildings. Even from a distance I recognised that profile.</p><p>“That’s him. Can you get a read on what’s in those buildings?”</p><p>“Friday?” Pepper asked, coming up behind me.</p><p>“Scanning,” said the cool female voice of Tony’s AI sidekick.</p><p>An ion diagram overlaid the footage, lighting up the interior of the outbuilding like an x-ray. That it was used as a garage was immediately apparent, as was the fact that this was no ordinary vehicle collection. A few mechanics showed up in glowing orange, busy changing the tyre on a jeep, while another had his head in the engine bay of an enormous JCB. A variety of other machines, ranging from the commonplace to the distinctly eye-opening, stood parked in neat rows.</p><p>“Holly crap,” Sam gave a whistle of awe mixed with disbelief. “Is that a <em>tank</em>? Why the hell do they have a tank?”</p><p>“Why do you think?” I replied distractedly. “Being able to drive anything that moves is an essential skill for an assassin. Particularly if it comes with with big guns.” I wasn’t particularly interested in the more exotic inhabitants of the garage. My eyes fastened on the squat image of a van showing up clearly to one side.</p><p>“That’s the van,” I said. “They’re definitely there.”</p><p>“I don’t like this,” Rhodes said, his War Machine suit making slight whirring noises as he shifted uneasily. “No guards, no visible defences. Could be a trap.”</p><p>“Of course it’s a trap,” I said absently. My mind raced.</p><p>“So we’re just going to walk right into it?” Sam said sceptically. He crossed his arms across the straps of his Falcon jetpack and looked at me in concern. “Nat, this is a hostage situation. Goravitch knows you’re going to come for your friend. He already got you to surrender once by threatening to kill her. What’s going to stop him just doing it again?”</p><p>I didn’t answer. There was no need. There was nothing to stop him threatening her. And no end to the horrific possibilities of what he could be subjecting her to right now in his sadistic quest to discover how she worked.</p><p>“Sam’s right, Nat,” Maria said from the screen. “I hope you have a plan.”</p><p>I breathed deeply, calming myself, letting my iron resolve stiffen my spine. Yes, I had a plan. They weren’t going to like it.</p><p>“We need to distract Goravitch from Mel. So we give him something else to focus on. The one thing he wants more than her right now.” I met their eyes steadily. “Me.”</p><p>“Are you <em>insane</em>?” Pepper cried, aghast.</p><p>“No way, Nat, not happening!”</p><p>“You said this guy wants to torture you!”</p><p>I glared at them, cutting across their protests. “He’s torturing Mel! Right now! She’s tough, but she doesn’t have my resources. I survived before, I can do it again. And while he’s busy with me, you can get to her.”</p><p>There was an appalled silence.</p><p>“Look, you put me in charge,” I pointed out harshly. “That is my decision. Deal with it.”</p><p>More silence. They couldn’t really argue with that, but the very air oozed reluctance.</p><p>“I really hope she’s worth it, Nat,” Bruce said finally.</p><p>I looked at Wanda. She gazed back at me, tears glimmering in her eyes. I smiled.</p><p>“She’s worth it.”</p><p> </p><p>****</p><p> </p><p>The marble hallway looked just like I remembered.</p><p>The doors slammed back hard enough to break the glass in the windows as I burst through them.</p><p>A figure in black ran towards me from the side. I shot him in the chest without even looking, my eyes busy scanning every opening and doorway. Once the echoes of the door and the gunshot faded, it was eerily quiet. There was no sign or sound of the children I knew would normally inhabit these rooms, and that didn’t surprise me. They knew I was coming, after all, and even the ruthless murderers that ran this establishment knew better than to expect trainees to prevail against me. They wouldn’t want their stock depleted unnecessarily.</p><p>I headed down the hallway, making for the hidden staircase I knew led to the underground bunker.</p><p>Doors banged open all along the corridor, disgorging fighters, most of them male and enormous. These weren’t agents, I recognised instantly. These were enforcers. Hired muscle. Cannon fodder.</p><p>Regardless of their qualifications, they all threw themselves at me with ferocious, single-minded aggression. I let my mind sink into the trance-like state of battle, where thinking wasn’t important. Only action mattered. Adrenaline infused my blood, and my body moved in a lethal dance, taking out everyone before me. Kick. Shoot. Tumble. Punch. I leaped over a body so huge he almost filled the corridor, wrapped my legs around his head and broke his neck before he hit the floor. I rolled to the side and snatched a knife from my boot, my arm flicking out to impale a charging opponent in the stomach with the point of the blade. He fell, wrenching the knife out of my hand. I yanked it out of his still-twitching body and threw it with deadly accuracy. Another man collapsed with the blade through his left eye. Arms grabbed me from behind and I fried that one with my bracelets, blue lines of electricity crackling around me like lightning.</p><p>A gunshot resounded around the walls and I felt a bullet graze past my cheek. Glancing back down the corridor, I saw a girl standing alone, pointing the gun. My reflexes reacted faster than my brain, taking out the threat before she had time to get off another round. My shot took her squarely in the forehead, and her body crumpled.</p><p>Silence fell.</p><p>No more attackers presented themselves. The corridor was littered with bodies. I stayed where I was, my eyes locked onto the twisted form of the girl with the gun, her lifeless orbs staring at me pitifully down the length of the hallway. She was very young, no more than twelve or thirteen. A few red zits marked her pretty face, tiny bumps raised the fabric at her chest where her breasts had barely begun to develop. I wondered if she had been ordered out here to take that shot, or if she had taken the initiative, perhaps hoping to impress her instructors.</p><p>I would never know.</p><p>I felt sick. Those dead eyes taunted me.</p><p>“You were dead either way,” I told the corpse sadly. “You missed.”</p><p>With failure comes death.</p><p>Abruptly, I turned away. Though I bitterly regretted the girl’s death, I could not afford to let it distract me. Stalking to the door I remembered, I opened it quietly and slipped through. Gun held ready before my face, I pattered down the long staircase. Proceeded gun first through the door at the foot.</p><p>The white, featureless corridor stretched before me, empty. The silence was deafening.</p><p>I crept down the corridor.</p><p>The huge steel door was ajar. Gritting my teeth at this blatant invitation, I slid through the gap.</p><p>The room beyond was dimly lit, gloomy after the bight whiteness of the corridor. I paused inside the door while my vision adjusted, listening. The only sounds were the faint electronic hums of machines. No sounds of movement or breathing. I crept further into the room, negotiating my way through the clutter of tables, monitors, lab equipment. An upright gurney caught my eye, empty straps dangling. A heart monitor sprouting a mass of cables loomed beside it, along with a contraption holding bags of red liquid and a maze of surgical tubing. I swallowed hard and tore my eyes away, ruthlessly silencing the screaming memories, burying them beneath my resolve. No emotion. Let nothing interfere with the mission.</p><p>Another steel door stood open in the corner.</p><p>I worked my way over to it and glanced through.</p><p>An operating theatre set up, also empty and silent, although the overhead spotlights were on. A metal tray of sharp implements gleamed menacingly.</p><p>I passed on.</p><p>A corridor lined with dark offices. Desks, monitors, filing cabinets, sheaves of papers. Then came a large room set up like a recreation area. Battered sofas, a pool table, a big screen TV on one wall. In the centre of the adjacent wall, a set of chains hung silently from the bare concrete.</p><p>I gritted my teeth and continued to the next door. The empty stillness taunted me.</p><p>Another corridor, this one dank stone, lined with doors. Steel cell doors, with shuttered viewing slots. Most of the doors stood open. I glanced through each as I passed. The cells were all the same, windowless, blank grey concrete. Their only features a hard, wrought-iron bedstead and a hole in the floor.</p><p>I approached the last door on the corridor. It was shut, the viewing window open.</p><p>Breathing slowly, calmly, I looked through it.</p><p>I had known they would have to have some means of keeping an enhanced person contained, some way to keep Melanie from using her powers to escape, or turning them on her captors. I had been prepared for the likelihood that they would keep her unconscious, or drugged, or even in some technologically-advanced cage.</p><p>Of course, I should have expected that Goravitch would find a far crueller method than that.</p><p>Melanie lay on the stained grey mattress. Leather straps crossed her body, and her wrists and ankles were shackled to the bed with iron manacles, her skin already bruised and bleeding where she couldn’t help but jerk against the restraints. Couldn’t help it, for electrodes covered her, a forest of thin wires that connected to a machine behind her head. She twitched involuntarily at irregular intervals as jolts of electricity scrambled her thoughts, kept her muscles in a constant state of spasm. Soft whimpers of pain accompanied every agonising sizzle through the wires.</p><p>Rage abruptly filled me.</p><p>I felt my face twist into a snarl as I shot up the lock on the door and kicked it open, uncaring of the noise. I put four bullets in the machine behind her, sending sparks flying in its hissing death throes, and in two strides was at her side, fumbling with the buckles of the straps.</p><p>She cried out in pain as her muscles were released. Her eyes opened, and her feverish gaze met mine.</p><p>“Hey you,” I whispered, my hands tearing at her bonds.</p><p>She stared at me wildly, then her eyes lit with horrified recognition. Her back arched, a ragged breath tearing from her throat. “Nat,” she moaned. “No, Nat, it’s a trap…”</p><p>I cupped her cheek in my palm, smiled at her lovingly. “I know,” I murmured, even as I sensed the movement behind me. Drinking in the beauty of her beloved face, I barely felt the sting as a tranquilliser dart struck me squarely in the back of the neck.</p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p>Consciousness returned.</p><p>I groaned, lifting my head.</p><p>I felt like I had been hit by a truck. Every inch of me ached. I opened my eyes, then immediately squeezed them shut again as my blurred vision sent a stab of nausea though me.</p><p>“I’m very disappointed in you, Natalia.”</p><p>The cold voice floated out of the gloom and I tensed, fought to clear the fog from my mind.</p><p>I hung by my arms from the chains, the concrete wall cold against the skin of my back and legs. My feet didn’t quite touch the ground. The tendons of my shoulders already clamoured from the strain of supporting my weight.</p><p>Goravitch stood before me, a white lab coat over an immaculate blue suit. He wasn’t looking at me but at the large screen TV on the adjacent wall. I squinted at it.</p><p>Security camera footage of the hallway upstairs played silently in black and white. I watched myself stalk into view, the frenzied rush of combatants. I felt a swift smugness at the graceful ease with which I dispatched all takers. In less than a minute the hallway was a mass of crumpled bodies, and the only thing moving was me as I looked back briefly the way I had come, then turned and headed out of shot.</p><p>Goravitch stabbed a button on the remote in his hand, and the TV went black.</p><p>“So strong, so deadly,” he murmured, walking towards me. His fingers grasped my chin, forced my head back. I glared defiantly into his hateful face. His grasp tightened, squeezing either side of my jaw. “So strong,” he repeated softly, examining me intently. His eyes glittered with sudden disgust. “So stupid. A sentimental fool, coming here alone to rescue your friend. You shame your training.”</p><p>I spat in his face. His swift backhand snapped my head to the side with enough force to make me see stars. I returned to glaring at him, licking the blood from my split lip.</p><p>He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the spittle from his face, moving back a pace or two.</p><p>“Where is she?” I demanded.</p><p>He sneered. “Your little friend is safe, never fear. She is very interesting. I very much look forward to working on her-“</p><p>I pushed off the wall and lashed my body out like a whip, my foot missing him by a millimetre. He stood motionless, still smirking. He had clearly chosen that spot very deliberately, a mere hair’s breadth out of range. My inability to reach him infuriated me.</p><p>“You present quite an enigma,” he continued, turning away. He picked up my suit from the back of the battered couch and examined it with interest, turning it over in his hands. “I do so enjoy a good mystery.” He held the fabric closer to his face, examining it minutely, then shrugged and tossed it back on the couch. “So tell me, Natalia, how did you cheat death?”</p><p>I gave a scornful snort. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear. I never died at all,” I lied. “I just wanted to disappear. My death was a cover up.”</p><p>He just gazed at me thoughtfully. “Yes,” he said softly. “I did wonder if that was the case. The story of your heroic sacrifice seemed… so out of character. And yet,” his eyes pierced me like blades of ice, “this sentimental behaviour of yours seems to suggest otherwise. I find myself believing the stories. Which presents… such fascinating possibilities….” The hunger in his eyes devoured me with its intensity. “And opportunities,” he continued, smiling coldly. “We’ve been waiting such a long time to welcome you back into the fold. I’m gratified to have been granted this chance to correct the flaws in your programming. Madame B always said you were one of our finest weapons, but she lost her grip on you, allowed you to develop idea of your own. That will not be a risk again.”</p><p>I stared at him in disbelief. I had known he was insane, but I hadn’t realised he was <em>this</em> insane. “I’ll die before I let you make me into that monster again,” I vowed.</p><p>He just smirked. “Perhaps. But I doubt it. You’ve always been a survivor; your continued existence is far more valuable than any other consideration. And if this newfound sentimentality of yours is strong enough to override that instinct, then you will submit all the sooner, if you wish to spare your little Scottish friend.”</p><p>I gritted my teeth; his smirk widened.  “Where is she?” I snarled again. My eyes raked the room, searching for a glimpse of blonde hair.</p><p>He just smiled. “Ah yes, most people would have your friend dragged in here right now. Provide a little demonstration before your very eyes. So crude. Uninspired. Such methods lack elegance. My research suggests that the imagination is a far more effective motivator than reality.”</p><p>A scream cut the air in the distance. Melanie!</p><p>Goravitch smirked indulgently. “You may imagine the demonstration my men are performing right now.” Another scream, echoing down the corridor beyond the door.</p><p>I fought my restraints in fury, even as the analytical part of my mind calculated quickly. I had guessed right. His focus on was on me. I had to keep his attention on me. Play along with his games, distract him from Melanie, keep him entertained enough that he wouldn’t notice what was heading for his back door.</p><p>I flailed aggressively, then sagged in surrender that was only partially feigned as Melanie screamed again. The pain and fear in her voice terrified me. What were they doing to her? I cursed as I realised he was right, this was so much worse than seeing her hurt in front of me. My imagination was in overdrive, spinning through all the horrific possibilities…</p><p>“All right, stop it! Please, I’ll do whatever you want, just please stop hurting her!”</p><p>He smiled grimly as another scream rang out and I flinched, feeling her pain as if it were my own. Then he plucked a small walkie talkie from his pocket and brought it to his lips. “Enough. Leave that one for now,” he ordered. His eyes lingered on me, glittering with malice. “Come play with this one instead.”</p><p>I tensed, throwing back my head defiantly, clenching my teeth against a triumphant snarl. The plan was working. The players were converging on me, leaving Melanie exposed.</p><p>Keep their attention on me. Play along with their game. Let them think they are winning.</p><p>There was a pause, then several bulky figures filed into the room, crossing to stand behind Goravitch. More big, heavily muscled thugs with cruel faces. The tattooed giant, Skuler, was at the centre of the group.</p><p>Goravitch gestured towards me as though presenting a gift, then hitched up his trousers and seated himself on the couch as though preparing to enjoy a show.</p><p>I shrank back against the wall as they looked at each other expectantly then, as a group, moved forward. “What do you want from me?”</p><p>“Oh it’s not what I want,” Goravitch drawled. “Not yet. We’ll get to that, but right now, it’s about what they want. These fine gentlemen have spent a long, tedious year exiled in a pitiful excuse for a country, waiting for your friend to turn up. Most inconsiderate of her to keep them waiting so long. They deserve a little recreation after such an unpleasant experience, don’t you think?” He smiled, an obscene glint in his eyes as he settled himself comfortably on the cushions. “Whoever subdues her can take her first,” he added to the silent semi-circle.</p><p>I scrabbled with my feet, trying desperately to get some purchase.</p><p>“Don’t worry, Natalia,” Goravitch’s mocking voice floated over the wall of flesh advancing on me. “This isn’t the main event. Consider it the trailers before the performance. I do so love the trailers, don’t you? The little glimpses into the future, such a delightful sense of anticipation for what is to come…”</p><p>I realised that I had lost control of this game. I had anticipated pain, I could deal with pain, but I had not expected him to start off with this… Fury exploded me into action. I kicked out viciously at the first man to reach for me, taking him in the throat with a satisfying crunch, crushing his windpipe. Seemingly undaunted by the death of their comrade, two more took his place. Fists slammed brutally into my stomach, my chest, my face. I grasped my chains and heaved myself up higher, wrapping my legs around a thick head, but blows rained down on me, knocking me from my perch before I could snap his neck. I swung on my chains and kicked out again, sending another brute flying before my vision was obstructed by an enormous fist. A series of brutal punches to the face snapped my head back and forth. Blood tricked into my eyes, blurring my vision with red.</p><p>“Gently, gentlemen,” Goravitch’s voice chided out of sight. “I would prefer her to remain conscious.”</p><p>More blows, this time to my chest and abdomen, making me retch. Rage fuelled me as I continued to resist, but it was futile. There was no escape from the fists that took such pleasure in bludgeoning me into submission. Finally, I retreated within my mind, concentrating on locking my cries behind my teeth. He wanted me to scream, to beg for mercy. I refused to give the sadistic bastard the satisfaction. I had endured worse beatings than this. Admittedly I couldn’t think of a specific example right now… I lost count of the number of blows, but the whole experience was starting to take on a semblance of unreality, as though I watched from above, disconnected from the battering I was taking.</p><p>Though I had long since lost any ability to fight back, the men seemed in no hurry to end their sadistic sport. Black and red circles began to spin in my vision, and I welcomed the darkness, willing it to grant me an escape before I had to deal with what came next, but before it could fully descend, the icy voice snapped an order, and the beating stopped. Cold water was dashed in my face and the blackness was abruptly banished, hauling my retreating consciousness back inside my tortured skin, back into awareness of the crippling pain. I spluttered, spitting water. A heavy, muscled forearm clamped across my throat. I opened bleary eyes and fought to breathe.</p><p>The tattooed face of Vernon Skuler leered at me, less than an inch from mine. I could feel his hot breath on my skin. He licked his teeth obscenely as his other hand roughly squeezed my breast, twisting my bruised flesh painfully. His body pressed me against the cold concrete. I could feel the hardness of his groin digging into me. He grinned. His hand left my breast and reached down to undo his trousers. The others stepped back, still watching avidly. A couple whistled and laughed, egging him on, making coarse suggestions.</p><p>I met Goravitch’s satisfied gaze, and dragged my lips into a mocking smile. “You’ll never break me.”</p><p>His eyes glinted, infuriated by my lack of fear. “We’ll see,” he answered.</p><p> </p><p>****</p><p> </p><p>I hung suspended in the chains, battered and bloody, my ragged breathing filling the silent room. Goravitch dismissed the sated ruffians and faced me alone once more, examining me like I was a piece of artwork mounted on his wall.</p><p>Barely clinging to consciousness, I nevertheless managed to dredge up a triumphant grimace to taunt him. He would never break me this way. His thugs might have conquered my body, but I had suffered the touch of many just as vile before, and for far less cause. It had been a while since I had sunk to such tactics, but old habits were deeply ingrained. My hatred of him increased tenfold for driving me to use those skills, but I used them nonetheless, because it enabled me to deny him what he truly craved. No plea for mercy passed my lips. No matter what they did to me, they could not make me cry out.</p><p>Goravitch watched me with a faint trace of frustration. “Such strength of will,” he mused thoughtfully. My refusal to cooperate with his sadistic pleasures both displeased and fascinated him.</p><p>“Then again, I remember how strong you were in the beginning. Such a delightful challenge. Oh you screamed at first, but you soon stopped. You were fascinating to observe… So unique. I didn’t get the chance to fully explore your possibilities. She took you away, you see. Terribly disappointing.” He smiled. “I’m glad we have this chance to get reacquainted, Natalia. I’m sure you will provide me with equally fascinating observations this time around. And this time, no-one will take you away before I am finished. This time, you will be broken. This foolish sentimentality you have fostered, it weakens you.”</p><p>A distant alarm began to sound. He looked over his shoulder in puzzlement.</p><p>“You’re… wrong…” I mumbled. Every word was agony. “I… am stronger… than I was…. I have something… I didn’t… have then…”</p><p>“What’s that?” Goravitch sneered, even as bangs and crashes began to make themselves heard. A distant roar was followed by panicked yells. A worried expression crossed his face and he reached for the walkie talkie.</p><p>“Friends…” I whispered.</p><p>A section of roof gave way with a thunderous crash and disgorged the huge green form of the Hulk, roaring with rage, at the same time as the doors at either end of the room exploded inwards. The limp form of one of the thugs came sailing through one doorway, a torrent of red energy in his wake. Goravitch spun in alarm as a blur of metallic blue shot through the doorway on the opposite side. Pepper’s attack knocked him away from me, sending him sprawling over the couch, which tipped over on its side and slid ten feet along the floor.</p><p>I fought to stay conscious as sounds of fighting rang out, but I was losing the struggle. From the raw pain that accompanied every breath, I suspected several ribs were broken, and at least one was pressing dangerously against my lung. My vision was turning black.</p><p>Distant cries echoed somewhere over my head, as though at the other end of a long, long tunnel.</p><p>“Oh god, Nat!”</p><p>“Natasha!”</p><p>“Up on your left!”</p><p>“Take that you sick bastards! And that!”</p><p>“Oh god, what the hell did they do to her?”</p><p>“We need to get her out of here, fast!”</p><p>“Time to leave this party!”</p><p>There was a crunching, grinding sound and I felt my body fall forward as the chains were ripped out of the concrete wall. Huge hands grasped me tenderly. Massive arms cradled me against a bare green chest. I vaguely felt enormous muscles bunch as he leaped, carrying me away from this place of nightmares.</p><p>“I’ve got you, Nat,” Bruce grunted. “Stay with me.”</p><p>Pain wrung a tortured gasp from my body as his movements aggravated my injuries. Hot agony lanced through my chest. I fought the enveloping darkness desperately.</p><p>“Mel…” I forced breath through my lungs, forced bloody foam past my lips to form the question I needed answered. “Mel?”</p><p>“We’ve got her, Nat. She’s safe. Just hold on.”</p><p>Melanie was safe. I went limp with relief. Crashes of breaking masonry and flashes of red and white lights reverberated down that long tunnel. I felt myself sinking. The darkness beckoned.</p><p>“Nat, stay with me! Come on, we’re almost there, stay with me!”</p><p>I couldn’t oblige him. I was no longer with him. I was on Vormir, and I was falling, falling, Clint’s anguished face above me screaming denial as I was ripped from his grasp. I plummeted towards an embrace of stone, but the impact I braced for never came. My body passed through the rocks like smoke. I continued to fall, down and down an immense dark well, a circle of light above getting smaller and smaller, until the darkness swallowed me up.</p><p> </p><p>****</p><p> </p><p>I opened my eyes.</p><p>Bright lights blinded me. Voices swelled in and out of my ears, as though someone kept turning the volume knob on a radio up and down. Words washed over me. Made no sense.</p><p>The surface beneath my body vibrated to the hum of powerful engines.</p><p><em>Quinjet</em>, my mind supplied. I was back aboard the quinjet.</p><p>“Hey you,” a familiar voice murmured close beside me.</p><p>With an effort, I turned my head.</p><p>Melanie smiled at me, her blue eyes anxious, her hand gently holding mine. She was dishevelled and dirty, her face bruised, but to me she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.</p><p>“You know, we really have to stop meeting like this,” she joked softly.</p><p>I shifted slightly, experimentally, raising my head. I lay on the jet’s medical trolley, wrapped in soft blankets. The skin of my torso felt tight, raw, as though newly stretched over my bones. I felt a familiar wave of weakness. Squinting against the lights, I recognised an open defibrillator pack sat nearby, its contents all askew.</p><p>“Did I die again?” I asked weakly.</p><p>Her mouth tightened. “It was a close thing. You had a lot of internal bleeding, and half your ribs were shattered. A couple punctured your lungs on the way out of that…place.”</p><p>That made sense. I remembered the agony that had exploded in my chest. Although it didn’t hurt now, or at least, not that much. I felt the tell-tale tingle within me that told me Melanie was once again using her powers to heal my broken bones and abused flesh, speeding up my body’s natural repair systems.</p><p>Her grip tightened on my hand.</p><p>“Why?” she whispered hoarsely. Tears welled in her eyes. “Of all the stupid, idiotic things to do! What kind of plan was that, letting that psychopath torture you? Why would you do that, go through that, for me?”</p><p>I gazed at her hopelessly. This was the moment, and yet my tongue rebelled against forming the words. Such simple little words, yet so hard to say. I had never said them before. So instead, I used my meagre trickle of strength to pull her down towards me, and pressed my lips to hers.</p><p>After a moment I realised she wasn’t responding.</p><p>Suddenly unsure, I pulled away. Her face was slack, her eyes wide, astounded. Mortified, I started to stammer an apology.</p><p>She shook her head at my incoherent noises, a dazzling smile creeping irresistibly over her face. Her eyes were suddenly full of intense love and longing, no longer secret, no longer hidden. Yet behind it lurked gnawing doubt. She looked at me like someone lost in the desert might view an oasis that had suddenly appeared before them, desperate for it to be real and terrified it might be a mirage. It was that fear, more than her honest yearning, that overruled my defences.</p><p>“I love you.”</p><p>The words were out before I made any conscious decision to say them, rolling across my tongue as naturally as breathing. I could no more have halted them than I could have paused my own heartbeats.</p><p>Her whole face lit up with incredulous happiness. She stared at me in disbelief, then suddenly her hands were cupping my face, her lips were back on mine. Her touch felt laced with fire as she kissed me passionately. Her lips, soft and hard all at the same time, sent a wave of intoxication through my body that no amount of alcohol could match. I felt giddy, drunk on the sudden surge of desire. My hand slid up her back, her skin smooth as silk beneath the ragged t-shirt.</p><p>An embarrassed cough sounded behind us and we broke apart, abruptly realising we had an audience.</p><p>“Well. That’s new,” Clint commented, raising an amused eyebrow. Wanda turned her face away slightly, fighting a broad grin.</p><p>Nobody else said anything, all of them rendered speechless by shock. Pepper looked amazed but delighted. Sam and Rhodes merely gaped, jaws hanging open in astonishment. Even Maria leaned forward on the monitor, total incredulity in her expression. Bruce looked as though he had just been clubbed over the head with a tank.</p><p>I gasped a laugh that became a moan of pain. It hurt to laugh. But their faces were priceless. I suddenly hoped fiercely that the onboard camera had captured the moment. I wanted to look back on it later when hilarity didn’t hurt so much.</p><p>Melanie pushed me gently back horizontal. “Sleep,” she instructed. “Heal.” Her lips twitched. “You know the drill.”</p><p>“Depleted energy reserves, limited stores of body fat, got it,” I replied wearily. “Need to eat more muffins.”</p><p>She kissed me again, this time light as a feather. “Sleep, my love,” she whispered, resting her forehead against mine.</p><p>I twined my fingers through hers, cradling her hand to my chest, and obediently closed my eyes. Wrapped in the warmth of her love, I slept.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. 11.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Homicidal books and a little spoon. The stuff dreams are made of.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay, if any of you are Russian speakers, please forgive me. All I had to work with was google translate, and on the assumption that it was going to be embarrassingly wrong regardless, I went for words that fit with the flow of my story and sounded good rather than strict accuracy. According to google, "ptashka" means 'little bird' and "liubimaja" means 'beloved'. I'm sure its probably woefully wrong, but please give me the benefit of artistic license and read it as above!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was dark when I awoke.</p><p>The surface beneath me no longer hummed. It was soft, springy. Frowning, I squinted into the gloom. My head still foggy, it took me a moment to understand why the shape of the grey ceiling above me was so unfamiliar. We had been on our way home, I should be in my room, but the ceiling didn’t match the one from my memory… then my brain caught up with the present. My old room was gone, the old building that had been my home destroyed by Thanos while I had been… absent. This was my new room, in the rebuilt Avenger’s facility. Everything in it was new.</p><p>I felt the weight of a thick quilt over my body, and a quick assessment proved that I had been dressed in a clean, loose t-shirt and shorts. Again, brand new, I could tell from the smell, and the slight starchiness of the cotton that nonetheless felt cool and soothing against my tender skin.</p><p>I wriggled my fingers and toes experimentally, pleased to note I was in no pain, then pulled a face at the familiar feeling of weakness as I pushed the quilt off the upper half of my body. It felt like pushing off a sack of sand. I heaved a sigh of resignation. It wasn’t that I wasn’t grateful for Melanie’s healing powers, but I did wish the side effects were a little less inconvenient.</p><p>Speaking of Melanie… my ears detected the sound of quiet breathing.</p><p>I turned my head on the pillow. Melanie was curled up in an armchair beside the bed, fast asleep. For a moment I was annoyed with myself for not being aware of her presence the instant I awoke – more evidence that my condition was severely compromised – but then I dismissed the thought. I had just violently died and been revived for the second time in less than a year. I could be forgiven for being a little off my game.</p><p>I eased gingerly on to my side and rested my head on my arm, drinking in the sight of the sleeping woman at my bedside. Emotion swelled in my chest as I watched her, taking a simple delight in watching her breathe. The light of the moon sliding through a gap in the curtains gave a touch of pearly glow to Melanie’s skin, bleaching her golden hair to silver. My eyes lingered on her full lips, slightly puckered in sleep; my own curved in an affectionate smile as I noted the worry line etched between her brows. How long had she been sitting here, patiently waiting for me to wake?</p><p>The question disturbed me. How long had I been unconscious? How much had changed while I had lain here, oblivious? I raised my head, my eyes now searching with intent. Not a mark remained of her imprisonment, but whether that was due to her powers or the passage of time, I couldn’t tell.</p><p>As though in response to my sudden agitation, Melanie stirred. For a second I thought I had awakened her, a sheepish apology already on the tip of my tongue, but then she moaned and twisted, her eyes still shut, and I realised she was dreaming.</p><p>Melanie twitched, flinching in her sleep. “No,” she muttered, the tendons in her neck standing out as she cringed away from whatever vision tormented her. “No… please…. No…”</p><p>My throat tightened. Struggling to sit up, I reached out reflexively to take her hand, but before I could touch her, she screamed, her body jerking alarmingly, taking her hand out of reach. Her teeth gritted as though in intense pain, yet she did not wake, still trapped within her nightmare.</p><p>“Shit,” I swore furiously under my breath. A red rage momentarily obliterated my vision as my imagination offered graphic suggestions as to what she was reliving. Her scream echoed forcibly in my mind, the exact sound I had heard while Goravitch taunted me. I still didn’t know what Skuler and his thugs had done to her, but judging by what had happened to me, I feared the worst. The surge of murderous fury that accompanied that thought was so extreme I almost blacked out, for a moment overwhelmed by a burning need to leap out of this bed, track them down and kill them slowly. But then Melanie cried my name, a sobbing cry full of anguish, and I realised with a jolt of dismay that she wasn’t reliving anything that had happened to her. The horrors she was seeing were being done to me.</p><p>“No! Nat! No!” she sobbed, the sound dying to a pitiful whimper. The lamp on the bedside table began to flicker ominously as she twisted violently.</p><p>“Uh oh.” I swore again as a thick book – Melanie must have been reading it before falling asleep in the chair – abruptly leapt into the air. It sailed over my head, pages flapping wildly, and hit the wall with a dull thump, followed swiftly by a second that narrowly missed taking my eye out. I could only be thankful that this room <em>was</em> so new, its furnishings so far rather sparse, rather than a room with a vast array of trinkets to become missiles. If this had been my old room, with my extensive collection of weapons hidden in every nook and cranny, I would have been in serious trouble right now. As it was, I had to dodge hurriedly as the lamp ripped its cord out of its socket and began to spin furiously in the air, the plug on the end of its wire whirling like a flail.</p><p>“Not good,” I muttered. Struggling out of bed, cursing my weak and shaking limbs, I almost fell to my knees at Melanie’s side. Disregarding the danger this put me in, I gathered her into my arms, clutching her protectively to my chest. “Mel, Mel, wake up. It’s me. It’s me, it’s Nat. I’m safe. We’re both safe. Wake up.”</p><p>Melanie stiffened; for a second I thought I was about to be pulverised by the insane vibration that surged through my bones, rattling my teeth in my skull. Then, to my relief, she gave a gasp and opened her eyes. The lamp stopped imitating a tornado and hung for a moment before dropping harmlessly onto the bed.</p><p>“N-Nat?” she croaked weakly.</p><p>“I’m here<em>, ptashka</em>,” I murmured without thinking.</p><p>She clung to me like a frightened child, shaking uncontrollably. “It’s my fault,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I couldn’t stop them.”</p><p>“It’s not your fault, <em>ptashka</em>,” I murmured into her hair, tucking her head under my chin. “I’m okay, I promise I’m okay. We’re safe now, we’re both safe, I promise.” For long minutes I simply held her, crooning whatever nonsense came into my head.</p><p>Sooner than I expected, she sucked in a deep breath, and raised her head. For a moment she looked confused to be sat on the floor, squeezed into the space between the chair and the bed, while I cradled her in my arms. Then she came fully awake, shaking off the remnants of the nightmare, and frowned.</p><p>“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” she said accusingly, pulling away from my embrace.</p><p>I smiled crookedly. “I had to evacuate for my own safety.”</p><p>She glanced over in confusion, then grimaced as she saw the debris scattered across my bed. “Oh.” She looked embarrassed. “Sorry.”</p><p>I shrugged. “That’s okay.” Feeling suddenly awkward and shy holding her in my arms, I also pulled away. It took an embarrassing amount of effort to haul myself back into bed. Melanie silently removed the books and lamp, replacing them on the table, and plumped my pillow. Then she sat back down in the chair and regarded me solemnly.</p><p>I swallowed, my mouth dry as I tried to think of something to say. The heartfelt words and passionate kiss we had shared on the quinjet seemed to hang between us, waiting for acknowledgement. Why wasn’t she coming closer? Had she changed her mind? Did she think I’d changed my mind? Was she waiting for me to make the first move?</p><p>I flushed at the memory of her hot lips, at the feel of her skin as my hand slid up her back, an intense ache tightening the pit of my stomach. I wanted to make a move, badly, and in any other circumstances I would have hauled her to me and let hot, mindless passion take its course. But her hesitation confused me. What if that wasn’t what she wanted?</p><p>I ground my teeth, frustrated, and if I was honest, a little panicky. The fact that I cared more about what she wanted in this moment than my own desire was proof that I was way out of my depth. It didn’t help to remember that the one and only time before this that I had attempted to get physical with someone I actually cared about that person had run away from me on a cloaked quinjet and disappeared, literally, off the face of the Earth.</p><p>I tried to keep my face expressionless, but as usual, Melanie knew me far too well.</p><p>“Hey,” she said softly, soothingly, leaning forward and taking my hand. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”</p><p>I forced a smile, not entirely reassured as she interlaced her fingers with mine. I had burned my bridges, said the words and committed myself to forming a romantic attachment to this woman, but now I found myself at a loss. I had never ventured this far into uncharted territory. She was still here, so I supposed that counted for something, but what did I do now?</p><p>I cursed softly in Russian. I was so bad at this.</p><p>“Well,” Melanie said at length. I risked a peep, and found her smiling sheepishly. “This is awkward.”</p><p>I relaxed a fraction, allowing myself a nervous laugh. “Totally.” I studied her cautiously, trying to assess her mood. She seemed surprisingly composed for someone who had been in the grip of a horrific nightmare only minutes earlier, which on reflection was worrying. “Are you okay?” I asked at last. I still didn’t know what they had done to her, wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but if she needed to talk about it…</p><p>“A little worse for wear, but I’ll live,” she replied, lightly, but with an edge that warned me not to ask again. She fell silent, and again I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I settled for squeezing her hand, rubbing gentle circles on her palm with my thumb.</p><p>She was quiet for a minute, then seemed to steel herself.  “What about you?” she asked in a low voice, the worry line between her brows deepening. “Are <em>you</em> okay?” She bit her lip, blinking furiously to stem the moisture brimming in her eyes.</p><p>I squeezed her hand again, interrupting her before the tears could fall. “I’m fine. Truly,” I added, as she shot me an accusing glare. “I’m not lying, or in denial, or supressing trauma.” I paused significantly, convinced she was probably doing all three, but she didn’t so much as blink. I sighed inwardly, but let it go; she had the right to deal with what had happened in her own way, in her own time, and she could hardly be expected to have my experience at such things. I was far more worried about her than I was about myself; I had no regrets about what had occurred. True, things had gotten a little out of hand, but even if I had known what would happen, I knew I would still have gone through with it. When it came down to it, the mission had been a success, my plan had worked, and she was safe. That was worth every second of what I had endured. “I’ll admit, as a plan it wasn’t the best I’ve ever come up with, but it worked. And it’s not like it’s the first time I’ve been tortured, or used my body as a distraction.”</p><p>Melanie flinched, and I grimaced, worried that disclosure might have been too much. Hopeless despair swept over me again; this was wrong, wrong, wrong. I shouldn’t even be thinking about trying to have a relationship with this woman. I didn’t deserve someone as sweet and generous and good as her, and Melanie deserved so much better than a barely functional person with enough skeletons in her closet to fill a cemetery.</p><p>Abruptly she moved, rising from the chair to sit beside me on the bed instead. She leaned down, stroking my hair back from my face, and pressed her lips gently to mine in a kiss nowhere near as passionate as the one we had shared on the quinjet, and yet almost infinitely sweeter.</p><p>“You worry too much,” Melanie murmured, our lips still touching. She cupped my face, lightly stroking my cheekbone with her thumb. “I love you, Nat. With all my heart. Nothing can change that; no matter what you tell me, no matter how terrible you think it is, I will never run away from you.” She smiled, and kissed me again, nipping gently at my lower lip. “And you <em>do</em> deserve me.” Then she scowled ferociously, and smacked my shoulder, hard. “But if you <em>ever</em> do something that stupid again, I’ll… I’ll…” Her voice trailed off incoherently, evidently unable to think of a threat dire enough.</p><p>I chuckled, finding her anger, and the deep concern behind it, extremely endearing. “I’ll bear that in mind,” I told her, leaning in for more of her delicious kisses.</p><p>She huffed, but yielded to my lips, melting against my side, our curves fitting together perfectly like two puzzle pieces. Her lips parted for my eagerly questing tongue, and she moaned softly. In the back of my mind, the analytical part of me noted that there was little physical difference to kissing a man, at least where the kiss itself was concerned. Melanie’s technique was perhaps a little more refined, but that probably said more about the type of man I usually chose than it did for the kissing abilities of men in general. What <em>was</em> different was the firm mounds I could feel pressed against my chest, topped by two hard, hot little nubs that felt like they were burning through our clothing. I arched up a little off the mattress, giving a little groan of pleasure as her breasts pressed still more firmly against my body. My hand moved without my thinking about it, cupping one of those delightful mounds in my palm. Her bosom was fairly modest; one pert breast made a perfect handful. Melanie gave a little yelp as I kneaded her flesh gently through her shirt, then rubbed my thumb over the spot where her nipple protruded.</p><p>Excited by her obvious arousal, I pushed gently. In my weakened state, it took a little effort to roll Melanie over onto her back, but she willingly complied with my wish, allowing me to take the top position. Dragging my mouth away from hers, I kissed my way along her jaw, then nudged her chin upwards with my nose, allowing me to continue my line of kisses down her exposed throat. Reaching the hollow at the base, I nibbled my way along her collarbone, my fingers undoing the first of her shirt buttons, pushing the cloth aside so that my lips could continue along her shoulder. She made adorable soft sounds of enjoyment, her eyes closed, her hands lightly combing through my hair and stroking the back of my neck. Then, to my surprise, she twisted her body in a sudden move, and I found myself back on my back. I opened my mouth to protest, but what came out was a gasp as she shoved the material of my t-shirt up until it bunched under my armpits and applied her mouth to my naked breasts. I closed my eyes, revelling in the delicious pulling sensations as her tongue swirled around my right nipple while rolling the left lightly between her fingers. My fingers tangled in her hair, holding her head in place as I arched up into her, demanding more. I could feel her lips curve in a smile as she circled the area with gentle kisses.</p><p>A fierce battle was taking place in the back of my mind. Part of me was perfectly willing to go along with this tender foreplay, but another side was becoming increasingly impatient. Though it felt amazing, this wasn’t at all the hot, steaming, passionate encounter I had had in mind, the kind of all-consuming frenzy that would leave no room in my head for dark thoughts about Goravitch, what he had done, and what he might be planning in retaliation.</p><p>With a growl, I pulled Melanie away from my breasts so I could crush my mouth hard against hers, grinding my hips against her, willing her hands to harden, to tear off my clothes and pound me into sweet oblivion.</p><p>To my intense frustration, her lips stayed soft, and she pulled away slightly, catching my hands in hers when I tried to press her closer. After a few more gentle kisses she rolled onto her side, propping herself on her elbow.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” I asked huskily, my breathing heavy.</p><p>She shook her head. Her eyes were bright with desire; I could see her struggling to rein it in, and for the life of me couldn’t understand why she was trying.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” I asked again, a little unnerved. “Don’t you want this? Am I not doing it right?” It was possible, I supposed. I might be the undisputed master of casual sex with men, but I had never been with a woman. Had I missed something?</p><p>Melanie chuckled softly. “You’re adorable when you’re anxious, you know that?”</p><p>I shot her an incredulous look. <em>Adorable</em>? No-one had <em>ever</em> dared call me that! I was the Black freaking Widow for god’s sake! People referred to me as any number of things – intimidating, terrifying, sexy ass bitch – but <em>adorable</em>? Was that who I was now? What the hell had she done to me?</p><p>She chuckled again and peppered light kisses over my jawline, but once again, when I hungrily attempted to push for more, she pulled back.</p><p>“Mel!” I complained. “You’re driving me crazy!”</p><p>“Sorry,” she apologised. “It’s just… this doesn’t feel right.”</p><p>I stared at her, dumfounded. Hurt and rejection welled up inside me, and for once I could not keep the emotions from blazing plainly across my face.</p><p>Melanie looked aghast at my reaction, and hurriedly kissed me again. “No!” she mumbled between kisses. “God, no, please don’t look like that! I didn’t mean <em>this</em> doesn’t feel right! Of course this feels right, it feels wonderful…”</p><p>“Then… why?” I asked in confusion.</p><p>She grimaced, propping herself on her elbow again, snuggling up against my side and stroking my breasts lightly through the t-shirt that once again covered them. “I want this,” she murmured in a low voice. “But… I want it to happen for the right reasons, Nat. Not now. Not like this.”</p><p>“Why not now?” I asked, aching. I hesitated. “I said… I said I cared for you,” I said, silently cursing as my tongue rebelled against saying the words again. Without the stimulus of the near-death experience, I couldn’t seem to unlock them. “Don’t you believe me?”</p><p>She smiled. “Of course I believe you. But I don’t think <em>you</em> believe you. Not yet.”</p><p>I frowned, not understanding.</p><p>She pursed her lips thoughtfully, choosing her words with care. “I know you, Nat. I know you still believe that you’re a monster. That you don’t deserve any of this. And I know that, while your heart knows that love is your greatest strength, your head still fights it. Still sees it as a weakness.”</p><p>I blinked. I had not reckoned that even she would be that astute. “Maybe,” I admitted after a minute. My loins throbbed insistently. “But I don’t see what that has to do with –“</p><p>“You don’t want <em>me</em> right now, you just want to fuck,” Melanie interrupted matter-of-factly. I blanched, and she smiled, a bittersweet smile that made me suddenly ashamed. “And while in other circumstances I would be more than happy to oblige, this is different. This is our first time and… I want it to be for the right reasons. I want to look back on it and know that there was only the two of us, making love because we wanted to make each other happy. Not screwing each other’s brains out because we wanted to forget all the horrible shit that just happened to us.”</p><p>I was silent for a long minute. Melanie waited patiently, her hands continuing to stroke gently while I considered what she had said.</p><p>“You’re right,” I said finally. “I guess I do have a bad habit of using sex to help me forget. And you’re right, that is what I’m doing now, and you deserve better.” I averted my eyes, ashamed of myself. “I don’t want to use you like that. So you’re right, we should… slow down. But…” I swallowed, struggling to find the right words. “I need you to understand, I do feel… a great deal for you. Even if I struggle to say it.” I gritted my teeth, feeling hopelessly inarticulate, my usually glib tongue tying in knots. “I’ve… never done this before. Sex has always been just sex. Scratching an itch. A means to an end. I’ve never done… what you said.” I found myself blushing. “I’ve never… made love. I’ve never believed I could. I still don’t know if I can, but I want to try.” I brushed her cheekbone with my thumb, gazing into those impossibly blue eyes. “I want to make you happy.”</p><p>Melanie smiled, moisture brimming in her eyes again, though this time they were tears of joy. “That is the sweetest, most incoherent thing anyone has ever said to me, <em>liubimaja</em>,” she whispered.</p><p>Absorbed in wrestling with my emotions, it took a second a second to register what she had just said. Then my eyes widened. “What did you say?” I asked, amazed.</p><p>Melanie looked slightly sheepish. “Did I say it right? I’m not very good at learning languages. Not like you.”</p><p>“You’re learning Russian?” I asked, dumbfounded.</p><p>For an answer, Melanie nodded towards the books on the bedside table that had so nearly brained me earlier. Now that I had time to read the titles, I realised they were a Russian language course, and a Russian/English dictionary. My mouth fell open.</p><p>Melanie coloured. “Well, I had to do something while I was waiting for you to wake up. Pepper got me an ipad and some virtual language lessons, but I guess I’m old fashioned – I prefer books. When you’re feeling better, though, maybe you could help me.” When I continued to stare at her, she started to look worried. “I mean, if you want. Or not. I’ll quit if you want me to, I just thought… I want you to be able to be yourself with me. To be able to talk in your own language. To feel at home.” She looked up almost nervously. “Is that stupid?”</p><p>“No,” I whispered. For a moment I was overcome.</p><p>From the day I had defected to Shield, I had accepted that Russia was no longer my homeland, and everything that tied me to it had to go. Quite aside from the fact that my former employers had a substantial price on my head, being recognisably Russian was not conducive to good working relations within an American military organisation. At first, my fellow agents had been blatantly hostile, some even attempting to bully me before I taught them better. Which also landed me in trouble; Hill had hauled me over the coals several times for messing up her mission plans by putting the key players in the infirmary. Aware that my situation was untenable, I had ruthlessly pushed myself to become unnoticeable, studying the tastes, customs and habits of my new countrymen obsessively, and refining my English to the point where not only my accent disappeared but I even dreamed in that language instead of my mother-tongue. I rarely slipped into it now except in times of extreme stress, and while my birth nationality was certainly no secret, most people tended to forget about it unless specifically reminded. While I did not regret that as such, I had to admit there was still a part of me, deep inside, that missed my homeland. Craved certain little details, like the sharp smell of fresh snow on the Moscow streets, and the crowded street cafes during the short summers when the sun didn’t set until close to midnight. I missed being able to go about my business without having to remember to conform to the ridiculous custom of smiling at complete strangers. I missed the taste of mince dumplings and the sharp burn of vodka with meals. <em>Decent</em> vodka, which these westerners seemed completely incapable of producing at a reasonable price. But most of all, I missed the language, the sound of Russian voices, the guttural consonants and the way the words felt on my tongue.</p><p>That Melanie was willing to go to the lengths of learning a whole new language, simply to give me a little piece of that back, left me speechless.</p><p>“Why?” I asked weakly. It was even less articulate than before, but it was all I could manage. I couldn’t for the life of me fathom what had prompted this, how she could possibly understand how much this would mean to me.</p><p>Her expression became tender. “<em>Liubimaja, </em>I know what it’s like to have no-one around who speaks the language you were born to. English isn’t my first language either.”</p><p>I blinked, surprised. “It’s not?”</p><p>She shook her head. “When I was a child, I heard almost nothing but Gaelic. I didn’t start using English every day until I was in my teens.”</p><p>My brows rose. Unconsciously, I settled a little more comfortably against her side, mulling over this surprising information. “I didn’t think they spoke Gaelic in Edinburgh.”</p><p>She smiled. “They don’t. But I’m not from Edinburgh. I’m from Brevig. It’s a tiny village on the Island of Barra, in the Hebrides.” She looked away, her quiet voice becoming strained. “We moved to Edinburgh when I was fifteen, after my mum was diagnosed with cancer. She knew she wasn’t going to make it, and she wanted to make sure we had a chance at a good life when she was gone. Barra wasn’t exactly the land of opportunity, especially for someone as obviously intelligent as I was. Jake was more of a physical type, he’d probably have found a niche, but she knew I wanted more. But she also knew I’d never leave Jake, that unless she made the change before she died I would end up staying on the island for his sake, never live up to my potential. So we moved. She made me promise to always go for my dreams, to never settle for less. It was one of the last things she ever said to me.” She smiled sadly. “Now she’s gone, and Jake is gone, and there’s no-one left to speak Gaelic with. It’s not exactly one of the common languages people tend to learn.”</p><p>I pressed forward and kissed her, unable to bear the ache of loss in her eyes. “I will learn it,” I promised her fiercely. “I’ll teach you Russian, and you teach me Gaelic, and we can be home for each other.”</p><p>She snuggled into my embrace happily. “Deal.”</p><p>We lay quietly for a while, exchanging soft kisses. Eventually however, though I resisted as hard as I could, the effects of my most recent near-death experience started to take over, exhaustion creeping up on me.</p><p>“You should sleep,” Melanie murmured, her sweet breath tickling my chin.</p><p>I shook my head, pressing my lips back to hers. I didn’t want to stop kissing her. Ever.</p><p>She chuckled. “So stubborn,” she said affectionately. “But you know how this works. You’re still recovering. You need rest.”</p><p>I clutched at her wrist as she made to get up. “You don’t have to go,” I whispered, my words barely audible. “You could stay.”</p><p>She regarded me, doubt conflicting with the same longing for closeness I felt. I knew she wasn’t worried we might forget our resolution to slow things down. Unspoken between us was the reminder of what her powers had done while she dreamed; she was afraid of hurting me in her sleep. I was equally hesitant; my night terrors might not be aided by telekinesis, but I was still more than capable of doing serious damage. Clint and I had crashed out together once while on a mission, and the next day I had been forced to run the mission without backup, Clint having been rendered useless by an arm broken in three places. Considering the nightmare I had been wrestling with, he had been extremely fortunate that it hadn’t been a lot worse, but I had made damn sure it had never happened again. When I was awake I was fully in control, able to lock away the horrors in my past, but while I slept they came slithering out of the dark places in the back of my mind, giving me no rest and making me dangerous to anyone who disturbed me.</p><p>Melanie knew about my nightmares; it would have been impossible not to be aware after so many months in such close proximity. She had once unwisely tried to wake me, and been sent flying across the cabin for her trouble, only her powers saving her from a bad injury. The idea of what might happen if we shared a bed, especially considering the events of the last few days, frankly terrified me, but the stark emptiness that sprang into being when she moved away frightened me even more. Bad idea or not, I couldn’t bear for her to leave.</p><p>Melanie locked gazes with me for a long minute, and I could tell the same thoughts were going through her head. Finally she nodded, and I breathed a sigh of relief.</p><p>“Would it be okay with you if I changed into something more comfortable first?” she asked with a smile.</p><p>I glanced over her attire; she was still fully dressed in jeans and a blue linen shirt. “Of course. I think there’s clothes in the dresser if you don’t want to go back to your room.” I didn’t feel like I could bear it if she left my sight even for a few minutes. Embarrassed by my unprecedented neediness, I tried to cover by rolling my eyes fondly. “Pepper will no doubt have procured me a whole new wardrobe by now.”</p><p>Melanie chuckled softly, and to my relief made no move to disappear. Instead, she dug through my drawers, pulling out a pair of cotton sleep shorts similar to the ones I was wearing, and a black tank top. She shrugged out of her clothing, and I couldn’t help tracing the lines of her body with my eyes, admiring the play of her muscles under her skin as she changed. The months as a castaway had left her with a physique many women would have paid dearly for, although I somehow doubted it would take off as a dieting technique. Not that she had been carrying much in the way of extra pounds to start with, and certainly those sinewy arm muscles predated the island; fruits of a time when she had spent her weekends scampering up and down cliffs for the fun of it. Yet she wasn’t overly muscled, that would have looked wrong on her. She was a perfect balance, to my mind, limber and toned as a dancer, yet retaining a delightful softness that matched her personality.</p><p>“You’re so beautiful,” I murmured without thinking, then blushed, unable to comprehend how I had come out with something so unbelievably cliched.</p><p>Melanie smiled, crawling back onto the bed. “So are you,” she returned, kissing me lightly on the lips before dragging the covers up over us both. To my surprise, she gently prodded me onto my right side before pulling my back flush with her front. Looping her arm around my hips, she snuggled close, rubbing rhythmic circles on my abdomen. Somehow, unbelievably, I had ended up as the little spoon. If anyone ever got wind of this, I would never live it down, and yet I felt found myself unwilling to protest.</p><p>“Sleep, <em>liubimaja,</em>” she breathed, planting a gentle kiss behind my ear. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”</p><p>“You’d better be,” I mumbled, closing my eyes, no longer able to fight my exhaustion. I felt her lay her head on the pillow beside mine, and smiled a little wonderingly at the feel of her warm breath on my neck. I had never dreamed of finding myself in this position, but I had to admit, I could get used to it.</p><p>Wrapped in the warm cocoon of her embrace, feeling safer and more secure than I ever had in my life, I drifted into sleep. And for once, the nightmares stayed away, our love shining like a light in the darkness, keeping the armies of demons at bay.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. 12.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Natasha finally gets her peanut butter sandwich.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A more light-hearted chapter after all that angst. I hope it makes you smile :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“All that work to get some meat back on you, and you have to make it all to do again,” Melanie grumbled. She pushed a plate towards me across the breakfast bar. “Eat,” she commanded with a mock-threatening look.</p><p>I surrendered without a fight, grabbing the peanut butter sandwich and taking a huge bite.</p><p>“Oh my god,” I mumbled. I closed my eyes blissfully. “Mel, you are a goddess.”</p><p>“She’s sure something,” Rhodes observed admiringly.</p><p>The others lounged casually around the kitchen, drinking coffee and munching toast. Maria was working the blender. Clint was cooking eggs.</p><p>“You, on the other hand, look like you walked out of a third-world charity poster,” Maria said, marching over and dumping a big glass of fruit smoothie in front of me. I raised an eyebrow. She pursed her lips at my sandwich disapprovingly. “Peanut butter sandwiches are not a healthy breakfast,” she scolded.</p><p>I rolled my eyes. My friends were treating me like I was made of glass. Admittedly, I was weaker than they had ever seen me before, which was my own fault. I had stubbornly refused to remain in bed, insisting Melanie help me shower and then join the others in the communal kitchen for breakfast, but even the short walk from my quarters had left me weak and shaking with exhaustion. My friends had looked uniformly shocked as I had hobbled in, forced to lean heavily on Melanie’s arm. Their overly-solicitous behaviour ever since was irritating the hell out of me.</p><p>“Guys, seriously, I’m fine.”</p><p>“Like hell you are,” Rhodes said, crossing his arms. “I’ve seen meat hanging in a butcher’s shop that looked better than you did when we pulled you out of that bunker.”</p><p>“We did have to defibrillate you, Nat,” Sam said apologetically. “And you did have two ribs sticking through your chest…”</p><p>I winced.</p><p>“That crazy plan of yours really backfired, Nat,” Rhodes carried on, scowling. “We almost lost you. If your friend hadn’t been there to work her mojo…”</p><p>I gestured impatiently with a sandwich. “Well she was, and I’m fine. And I have been thoroughly chastised for the stupidity of my plan, believe me -”</p><p>“I bet you have,” Sam sniggered under his breath.</p><p>Wanda hid a snort of laughter behind a cup of tea.</p><p>I stuffed the sandwich in my mouth, embarrassed, and cast an oblique look across the counter. Not that I seriously thought Melanie would be so crass as to correct them, but if anyone found out we had not yet consummated this new partnership, I would never hear the last of it. My reputation might never recover.</p><p>Melanie just smiled, shook her head in amusement, completed another sandwich and floated it onto my plate.</p><p>“Ah, so, how long was I out?” I asked hurriedly, changing the subject.</p><p>“Four days,” Bruce answered. He looked too big to be allowed in this kitchen, hunched over a mixing bowl of cereal that was still ludicrously small in his huge hand.</p><p>“Can’t have been so bad then.” I shrugged at their incredulous expressions. “I was in a coma for nearly two months last time,” I explained.</p><p>“I still can’t figure out how you did it,” Bruce marvelled to Melanie with scientific appreciation. “To repair her neurons alone… I mean you’re talking ten to the twelfth connections, electrical impulses, tissue, trillions of cells - the implications are mind-boggling! Dr Cho is going to think Christmas came early.”</p><p>I paused, the glass of smoothie half way to my mouth. “You called Dr Cho?”</p><p>“Well, yeah, I mean..” He quailed at my expression and looked guiltily at Melanie for backup. I glanced accusingly at her.</p><p>She looked sheepish. “Well her work on tissue regeneration is the foremost in the field.” She spread her hands, unable to contain her enthusiasm. “I mean, come on, Dr Helen Cho! She’s like a legend, half my research was based on her work, to meet her would be… so amazing!”</p><p>Sam whooped softly. “You’ve got competition, girl!” he drawled, grinning at me.</p><p>“You’re really lucky I have better things to do right now than kick your butt, Sam,” I said evenly, pointing a sandwich at him. I still had to cast a swift glance at Melanie, unable to quash a sudden tiny stab of doubt. She rolled her eyes and shook her head slightly, her expression loving.  Reassured, but still unhappy, I resumed gulping smoothie.</p><p>“Is she on her way?”</p><p>“En-route from Seoul,” Bruce confirmed nervously. “She’s real eager to see you.”</p><p>“I bet,” I muttered.</p><p>“Hey,” Clint said, handing round plates of scrambled eggs. “It wouldn’t hurt to get you checked over by a doctor, Nat.”</p><p>“Mel –“</p><p>“I’m a biochemical analyst, not a doctor, Nat,” Melanie said.</p><p>“And I am a human, not a lab rat,” I pointed out.</p><p>She raised her hands defensively. “I’m just saying, you know how little we know about… what I do. I told you before, I have no idea what effects it could have. It would be good to get a medical opinion.”</p><p>I glowered.</p><p>She smiled at me beseechingly. “Please? For me.”</p><p>“Blackmail,” I muttered. “Fine. I’ll be star exhibit at the nerd convention. But no needles. And we swear her to secrecy. We need to keep my return under wraps.”</p><p>The others looked confused.</p><p>“You don’t want to tell anyone?” Bruce protested. “Nat, you’re a global icon!”</p><p>“Exactly,” I said, starting on my eggs. “I’m too well known, and I don’t do well in a spotlight. I work best in the shadows. It’s better for everyone if the world just carries on believing that Natasha Romanoff died on Vormir.” I shrugged. “Which is technically true.”</p><p>“What about your friends?” Rhodes asked. “T’Challa, Okoye? Thor, Rocket, Nebula? Don’t they deserve to know you’re alive?”</p><p>“Well if they drop by, they’ll find out. But we’re not sending messages out. You might as well just stick a huge neon sign on the roof saying, ‘Romanoff is back!’”</p><p>“Nat, this place isn’t as full as it used to be, but there’s still over two hundred support staff,” Maria pointed out. “Techs, researchers, medics, ground teams, security, administrators, cleaners… you’re the Commander, you can’t hide from your people.”</p><p>“So have your job back,” I snapped irritably. Now that Melanie was safe, I felt no pressing need to put myself back in the front line. I would be perfectly content, for now at least, to hide away in the residence wing, out of sight and out of mind.</p><p>“Don’t be ridiculous,” Maria scoffed. “Nat, we’ve had this discussion. It’s absurd for me to have the job when I’m not the best person for the role. We’re talking about global security; the world needs the best we have available. The one able to make the tough calls no-one else can.”</p><p>I sighed, hearing what she didn’t say. I wasn’t at all sure my willingness to put myself in harms way was the sterling credential she seemed to think it was, but I lacked the energy to argue. To the others’ evident satisfaction, I shrugged, giving in. “Have they all been vetted?” I asked, scooping up another mouthful of eggs.</p><p>She rolled her eyes, looking slightly offended. “What do you take me for, of course they have – background checks, ID’s, their personal contacts right back to kindergarten, the full works. They’re all clean.”</p><p>I sighed. “Then I guess we tell them. But make it clear its classified, and that I will personally remove the thumbs of the first person to chatter about me outside of this compound. Officially, I am not here. Officially, <em>you</em> are still the commander of the new Avenger’s Initiative.”</p><p>“What about me?” Melanie asked nervously.</p><p>I shrugged. “Your picture didn’t make global news,” I pointed out. “And you’ve been missing for six years. I doubt anyone is going to knock on the door asking for you.” She looked relieved. “But,” I carried on, pointing my fork at her, “you have to promise me you’ll get in that training room and learn how to take out a guy that comes at you with a strangling wire. I don’t want to have to rescue you again.”</p><p>She looked confused. “Rescue me from what?”</p><p>Oh, sometimes she was so naïve. I glanced around the others and they shifted uncomfortably.</p><p>“Has it occurred to you that we just took out a highly valued institution run by the most ruthless intelligence service on the planet?” I pointed out. I frowned, suddenly unsure, looked at Maria. “We took it out, right?”</p><p>“Burned to the ground,” she confirmed, with a slightly spooked glance towards Melanie. Huh. Three guesses as to who was responsible for that. Melanie’s power to move the tiniest particles of matter made starting fires as easy as snapping her fingers. She just vibrated the particles until friction caused them to ignite. And I could easily imagine the rage that would have been kindled in her at the sight of me, even if whatever they had done to her didn’t spark it. While she abhorred the thought of taking lives, she had the explosive temper of her highland ancestry and could be roused to violence with sufficient cause, though she suffered agonies of regret afterwards.</p><p>“Fatalities?” I asked, carefully keeping my eyes on my plate. I still sensed her flinch. She hurriedly turned away, busying herself at the sink.</p><p>“Minimal,” Maria replied. “We tagged a dozen escapees above ground on the satellite imaging, and as far as we can tell there was no-one left inside when it fell. But there was a warren of tunnels underneath that place that our satellite couldn’t penetrate; there’s no way of knowing how many might have been down there, or how many got out.”</p><p>“Goravitch?” I focussed on forking up eggs, refusing to acknowledge the twist of nausea his name conjured in my stomach.</p><p>“We’re not sure,” she admitted. “Pepper says she left him unconscious but breathing. Whether he survived depends whether he regained consciousness before the smoke got to him, or whether some of his underlings rescued him. He definitely didn’t escape above ground, but he could have gotten away through the tunnels.”</p><p>“Great.” I pushed the eggs away, feeling sick.</p><p>“You think the KGB will come after us?” Sam asked.</p><p>“I think we probably have a price on our heads so big I’m surprised a missile hasn’t come through the front door already,” I said sardonically.</p><p>“We’re on American soil,” Maria pointed out. “The Russians aren’t stupid, there’s no way they are going to attack a US facility, let alone one as much in the public eye as this. It would start world war three.”</p><p>“Just because they can’t attack openly doesn’t mean they can’t retaliate,” I pointed out. “And they will, there’s nothing surer. They aren’t going to forget this.”</p><p>“Well, at least we destroyed the Red Room,” Sam said hopefully. “And Goravitch’s lab.”</p><p>“Which puts us in even deeper shit, if he survived,” I said bluntly. I gestured towards Bruce and Melanie with the fork. “Hell hath no fury like a scientist deprived of his life’s work.”</p><p>“Nat has a point,” Bruce agreed unhappily. “If he survived, he is going to be majorly pissed.”</p><p>“So what do we do?” Wanda asked uncomfortably.</p><p>They all looked at me expectantly.</p><p>I sighed. “I don’t know.”</p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“This is incredible,” Dr Cho marvelled, her oriental eyes taking in the various scans of my body. She turned to me and examined my ribcage, gently probing the slightly lighter-coloured skin where Melanie had repaired the tissue damaged by my shattered ribs punching through my chest.</p><p>“Look out, I think your idol is touching up your girl,” I heard Sam whisper teasingly to Melanie over by the window.</p><p>“Sam,” I growled warningly, trying to lie still despite agitating to be done with this examination.</p><p>He laughed softly.</p><p>Clint smiled, leaning his elbows on the table beside me. “You know if you need a break from these clowns you could always take a trip back to the farm with me,” he offered. “Laura and the kids would love to see you. They’ve missed you.”</p><p>“I’ve missed them.” I held still as Dr Cho ran a hand-held scanner over my head. “I don’t know Clint. Maybe. Soon.”</p><p>Over by the window Sam started up again, apparently unable to resist.</p><p>“Say, I always wondered, who’s the guy?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You know, which one of you is the guy, when you –“</p><p>“I think you miss the point,” Melanie cut him off with admirable restraint. If it wasn’t for the fact that my muscles still felt like partly-cooked spaghetti I would have poleaxed him by now. “That’s not how it works. There are two girls. That’s it. No guy.”</p><p>“Yeah but –“</p><p>“Keep talking Sam, and you’ll be able to make a first-hand comparison,” I threatened.</p><p>He laughed. “Ooh baby, there’s an idea. Hey, English-“</p><p>“Scottish.”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“I’m Scottish, not English.”</p><p>“What’s the difference?”</p><p>“Oh boy,” I said, rolling off the bench to intervene before the situation got ugly. “Mel, he’s just being a jerk, he doesn’t know any better, don’t disintegrate him.”</p><p>Sam laughed again, putting up his hands in surrender, although he looked slightly worried at that last remark.</p><p>“Behave,” I said sternly. “Or else,” I added, giving him a look to remind him that I wouldn’t be out of shape forever, and that once I was back to my old self there would be nothing he could do to prevent me wiping the floor with his face if I so desired.</p><p>Sam winced, and hurriedly backed down. “Sorry, boss.”</p><p>I turned back to Cho and Bruce and their multi-coloured floating diagrams. “Are we done?”</p><p>“Sure,” Cho said absently, her eyes on her scan of my brain. “You look perfectly healthy as far as I can see. You’re recovering at a remarkable rate. You should put the weight back on pretty quickly if you rest and eat, and regaining your stamina is just a question of training. Brain activity is excellent… its seriously impressive what you managed to achieve with no help from any technology,” she said to Melanie admiringly. “My cradle builds tissue, but nowhere close to this scale… what else can you do?”</p><p>“Nat said you had figured out a way to transport matter,” Bruce prompted excitedly.</p><p>Melanie smiled. Her eyes glowed gold and she vanished, reappearing a second later on the other side of the room with a slight pop of displaced air.</p><p>“Show off,” I muttered, smiling to myself as I pulled my sweater back on.</p><p>“Sweet,” Clint commented, impressed.</p><p>“How the hell did they even get hold of you?” Sam asked incredulously.</p><p>“It’s still a pretty new development,” I snapped, frowning at him. “She hasn’t had a lot of time to practice -“</p><p>“I panicked,” Melanie admitted. I frowned at her, but she spread her hands deprecatingly. “What, it’s true. I could have gotten away from that guy, but I panicked.”</p><p>“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” I told her comfortingly. I hated that she felt so responsible. “It was your first real fight.”</p><p>“Yeah, I guess beating you up on the beach didn’t count,” she said lightly.</p><p>“You didn’t beat me up.”</p><p>Sam laughed, whooping. “Oh, this I have to see.”</p><p>“Fine. She needs to train anyway.”</p><p>“No,” Melanie and Dr Cho vetoed with one voice.</p><p>“No sparring for you, not yet,” Melanie added sternly. “You’re not fit.”</p><p>“Alright. You can spar with Clint.”</p><p>“What?” Melanie looked dismayed.</p><p>“You promised you would train,” I reminded her.</p><p>She sighed and looked wistfully over at the lab equipment. I knew she was longing to go back to her microscopes. I suspected her willingness to spar with me on the island had been partly to please me, give me a familiar activity that I enjoyed, and partly her own furtive desire for an acceptable form of physical contact. The thought of training seriously, potentially for real combat, was totally repellent to her. But I knew there was no telling how long this peaceful interlude might last, or what might come at us next. I had no intention of losing her again. Like it or not, she needed to learn to fight.</p><p> </p><p>****</p><p> </p><p>“Try not to damage him,” I told Melanie laughingly as she and Clint took up position on the grass outside.</p><p>“I’ll do my best,” she said sourly. Dr Cho, Bruce, Rhodes, Wanda, Sam and Maria all gathered a prudent distance away, watching with interest. Sam had brought popcorn.</p><p>I turned to Clint. “Go easy on her,” I murmured quietly, so she couldn’t hear. I was more nervous than I would admit, knowing full well how lethal he was. Not that he would hurt her on purpose, but if he forgot for one second that she wasn’t used to this sort of thing…</p><p>He grinned reassuringly, flicking open his bow with a snap. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of her.”</p><p>“Er, Barton, are those arrows real?” Melanie asked nervously.</p><p>“They’re training shafts, the tips are shielded,” he told her. She looked relieved, then her face fell as he added, “but they still pack a punch, so I would try and avoid getting hit. It won’t injure you, but it’ll smart.”</p><p>“Great,” she muttered.</p><p>I laughed. “Hey, relax. Think of it like paintball.”</p><p>She grimaced. “I only ever played paintball once. I got hit a lot. And it hurt like hell.”</p><p>“Good motivation not to get hit now then,” I said cheerfully. “Cheer up. You have advantages you didn’t have back then. Remember the beach. Use what’s around you.”</p><p>She nodded.</p><p>“Give me a second,” I said, limping over to stand with the others. Wanda gave me a hand down onto the grass. Sam hunkered down next to me and offered me some popcorn. Well, Mel kept saying I had to eat. I took some.</p><p>“Ready?” called Rhodes, acting as an unofficial referee.</p><p>Melanie tensed. “Yes.”</p><p>Clint plucked an arrow from his quiver and twirled it in his fingers. “When you are.”</p><p>“Go!”</p><p>Quick as a striking snake, Clint fitted the arrow to his bow and fired. The arrow shot straight through the spot Melanie had occupied a split second before. There was a brief gold flash and she popped back into existence behind him. She made a pushing motion with both hands, and he staggered forward as though kicked in the rear. Though surprised, he didn’t hesitate. Whipping around, his kick caught Melanie in the stomach. He pulled it, but it still sent her flying.</p><p>“Ooooh,” Sam winced in sympathy. I fidgeted anxiously, fighting the urge to call this off. I reminded myself this had been my idea, and that I trusted Clint not to hurt her. But it didn’t stop me from wanting to rush to her side as she lay gasping, obviously winded, on the ground.</p><p>“She’s okay,” Wanda murmured reassuringly, patting my arm.</p><p>Clint waited, sportingly giving her a chance to get her breath. That was a mistake on his part. I choked on my popcorn, laughing, as Clint’s bow was suddenly jerked out of his hand and began beating him over the head and shoulders.</p><p>“Hey!” he cried indignantly, raising his arms to protect his head and ducking ineffectually. Melanie took advantage of his distraction to stagger to her feet.</p><p>“That’s my girl,” I said proudly as the others roared with laughter.</p><p>Clint suddenly made a running dive, swiping the bow aside, and knocked her off her feet again. The bow abruptly fell to the ground. She struggled wildly, him atop her, then he suddenly fell forward as there was another gold flash and she vanished from beneath him. He scrambled for his dropped bow and nocked an arrow, spinning in all directions, seeking a target.</p><p>“Where’d she go?” Bruce wondered aloud.</p><p>I scanned the nearby trees. “There she is,” I said quietly, spotting her sneaking behind a tall pine. At that moment, she stood on a twig with a loud crack and Clint turned and fired.</p><p>With a squeak of panic, Melanie disintegrated the arrow into a cloud of atoms, moments before it should have connected.</p><p>Sam gave a congratulatory cheer, which turned to a grimace of sympathy as a second arrow, launched right after the first, blew through the dust cloud and smacked her in the shoulder. I winced as she let out a yelp of pain. Then she beckoned, and Clint’s bow once more flew out of his hand. His arrows left his quiver in a bunch, lifting into the air. Both bow and ammunition shot towards Melanie, halting in mid-air before her. She frowned in concentration, still massaging her shoulder, and an arrow nocked itself.</p><p>“Barton’s about get a taste of his own medicine,” Maria said with amusement.</p><p>For a moment I thought she was right. Clearly so did Clint, who hurriedly dived to the ground. Unfortunately, Melanie’s grasp of archery wasn’t good enough to make it work. The arrow she tried to shoot at Clint slipped off the bowstring and landed a mere four feet away. Her teeth gritted in frustration.</p><p>I grimaced as she allowed herself to become distracted. She should have gone back to using it as a bludgeoning weapon once it became obvious that she didn’t know how to use it, but instead she tried once again to nock an arrow. Preoccupied with trying to figure out the bow, she didn’t realise Clint had crawled within striking distance.</p><p>“Uh oh,” commented Sam.</p><p>I grimaced again as Clint tripped Melanie up and swiftly had her in a head lock. She wriggled like an eel but couldn’t break his hold, and clearly couldn’t muster the concentration she needed to transport herself again. He grinned as she finally tapped his elbow to concede as I had taught her. He let go. She went limp with relief, groaning. He climbed to his feet, offering her a hand. “Not bad,” he said approvingly, clapping her on the shoulder. He looked over at the rest of us. “So who’s next?”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>****</p><p> </p><p>“Is this really necessary?” Melanie grumbled.</p><p>She threw a half-hearted fist towards the punchbag. It barely moved.</p><p>“Yes,” I told her. I walked around her, kicking her feet into a better position. “Throwing things around and dematerialising is all very well, but it isn’t enough. You need to develop a mindset. Reflexes. The ability to finish an opponent. And you can only get that through training.”</p><p>“So how come Wanda doesn’t have to learn to punch things?” she demanded, glancing over to where the younger woman leaned against the wall, watching in amusement. “She throws stuff around too.”</p><p>“She <em>did</em> have to learn to punch things,” I told her patiently. “When she first joined the Avengers, she spent months doing this kind of thing. And she sucked at it nearly as much as you do.”</p><p>“Too true,” Wanda agreed ruefully. “I spent a ridiculous amount of time contemplating the training room ceiling.” She pulled a face. “And every time I ended up flat on my back, Nat added a mile to my morning run. I swear I was running a marathon every day at one point.”</p><p>Melanie groaned in horror.</p><p>“It was excellent motivation,” I told Wanda, unable to supress a smirk. “And don’t think you’re getting off the hook today just because we have fresh meat. Stop lazing around and go hit the treadmill. You can do five miles as a warm up. And don’t forget to stretch.”</p><p>Wanda rolled her eyes. “And I thought I was so happy to have you back,” she said in resignation, heading over to the other side of the room.</p><p>I turned back to Melanie, finding her studying me with a mischievous smile.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Look at you, the boss, ordering everyone around,” she murmured, reaching for me playfully. Her lips curved suggestively. “I kind of like it. It’s sexy.” Her arms circled my waist.</p><p>I smiled, then spun her lightly, giving her a little push back towards the punchbag. “Nice try. Stop trying to distract me.”</p><p>She groaned. “I take it back. Wanda’s right. You’re a slave driver.”</p><p>“You’ll thank me when it saves your life.”</p><p>“I suppose,” she said uncomfortably, unhappy with my choice of words.</p><p>I moved up behind her, took her hands and demonstrated the correct technique, then stood back and watched her attempts critically. “Good. Keep it up.”</p><p>“This a girls only party or can I join?” Sam’s good-natured voice broke in.</p><p>Melanie gestured at the punch bag fervently. “Be my guest.”</p><p>“Oh no you don’t,” I said, grabbing her as she tried to make her escape. “Get back on it. Ten minutes.”</p><p>“I hate you,” she groaned melodramatically.</p><p>“Sure you do.”</p><p>Sam laughed. “You’re going to pay for that later,” he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.</p><p>I rolled my eyes. “Do you ever stop?” I demanded, a shade of real irritation coming into my voice. I wasn’t used to my personal life being the subject of so much interest. Then again, I wasn’t used to having a personal life at all.</p><p>“Sorry Nat,” Sam said. He smiled. “It’s nice that you’ve found someone. Cap would be real happy for you.”</p><p>“I know,” I said sadly. I still struggled to grasp the idea that Steve was never going to wander back through that door. I missed him.</p><p>Sam grinned. “And hey, it’s nice to finally have something to tease you about. You and Banner didn’t exactly provide me with a huge amount of material.”</p><p>I flushed. “He seems to be taking it pretty well,” I observed. I had been quite surprised, actually, at how well Bruce and Melanie seemed to be getting along. I indicated the ring with my head questioningly, inviting Sam for a bout. I was working myself as hard as I dared, trying to get my strength back as quickly as possible. Luckily for the sanity of everyone around me, this episode of weakness was passing far more rapidly than the last. Sam grimaced now in anticipation of bruises but gamely entered the ring and put up his fists in readiness.</p><p>“Oh it was pretty awkward for a little while after your little reunion on the quinjet,” Sam said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He swung a roundhouse and I ducked easily under his arm, letting his own momentum tumble him over my shoulder.</p><p>“Really?” I asked, courteously waiting for him to get to his feet again.</p><p>“I thought it was hilarious,” Wanda said, grabbing her water bottle and leaning against a corner post, our conversation clearly far more interesting than what she was meant to be doing.</p><p>“What did he do?” I asked, worried. I looked over at Melanie but she didn’t meet my eyes, just smiled slightly and continued dutifully thumping the punchbag. I sensed Sam make a rush while my back was turned and stepped aside, hooking my foot casually around his ankle, tripping him up. Sam groaned as he hit the mat again.</p><p>“Oh he just sat there and stared at the two of you,” Wanda explained. She grinned. “For like, a good half hour. Mel just sat there cool as a cucumber and held your hand and ignored him.”</p><p>“We all sat there feeling <em>really</em> awkward,” Sam said sourly, getting to his feet again.</p><p>“Then finally he said, ‘so you’re a lesbian?’,” Wanda mimicked Bruce’s self-conscious tones to perfection.</p><p>Sam grinned. “And your girl said, ‘uh huh. So you’re a big green monster?’”</p><p>I pressed my lips together, trying not to laugh.</p><p>“Then I guess they figured out they had a lot in common on the science side of things, because they started talking about wavelengths of gamma radiation and microbiology and neurons and what not.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m glad they understood what they were on about, because I only understood the ‘the’s and the ‘and’s.”</p><p>I looked back at Melanie. She shrugged, grinning. “Science transcends all boundaries,” she said brightly.</p><p>“I should have known – you’re both huge dorks,” I said resignedly.</p><p>She laughed. “What does that make you, president of the dork fan club?”</p><p>“You do seem to have a type, Nat,” Sam smirked.</p><p>I made an aggravated noise and quickly had him flat on the mat again.</p><p>Melanie and Wanda roared with laughter.</p><p>“I don’t know what you both think you’re laughing at,” I said, facing them with hands on hips. I pointed at the mat. “Get down and give me twenty!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. 13.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Yes. Just yes. God yes.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is my first full length explicit sex scene so please go easy on me! I hope it was worth the wait.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Life settled down into a pleasant routine.</p><p>In Melanie’s arms, I was managing to achieve the longest run of quality nights’ sleep I could remember, but I was still an early riser, stealing out of bed at what she complained was an ungodly hour before burying her head in the pillows again. Leaving her to sleep, I would head to the gym to complete my morning workout in the early morning peace, enjoying the solitude. After a couple of hours, I would join her for breakfast, before leading her back to the gym to spend the rest of the morning on her training, often joined by Wanda and occasionally one or more of the others as well.</p><p>In the afternoons, Melanie would thankfully abandon her work-out clothes for her jeans and lab coat, and ensconce herself in the lab with Bruce and Dr Cho. I didn’t pretend to understand what they were doing in there, other than it had something to do with conducting controlled experiments aimed at exploring her ability to manipulate cells, and involved a lot of petri-dishes.</p><p>Meanwhile, I was spending my afternoons with Maria, going over the security and defences of the compound, brainstorming contingency plans for whatever the KGB might choose to throw at us, and reviewing the staff roster of my new command. I still had yet to meet any of them personally; I preferred to keep to the residence wing until I was fully fit again, and Maria agreed that revealing the unofficial change in authority was best left until I looked my usual formidable self. Or ‘a little less scrawny’ as she put it.</p><p>Which meant that, for the time being, I found myself enjoying a relative reprieve from responsibility. Knowing it couldn’t last, I was determined to make the most of the peaceful interlude to spend every hour I could steal with my new girlfriend.</p><p>The word girlfriend still made me feel uncomfortable, something that caused the boys no end of amusement. Despite my feelings for Melanie, and the fact that we now officially shared quarters and a bed, which meant there was no way I could deny that what was between us constituted a relationship, I still couldn’t bring myself to use the g-word out loud. It just didn’t sit with the image of myself I still held in my mind, the emotionless assassin who did not make personal attachments. Though I knew that hadn’t been true for some time now – for many years if I was honest, for what was my relationship with Clint and his family if it wasn’t an emotional attachment? – I still struggled to shed the façade I had hidden behind for so long.</p><p>Melanie didn’t push, and even got cross with the boys when they teased me with the word. She said she was happy simply to be with me, and didn’t care what label anyone put on it. My evenings were exclusively reserved for her; I was coming to love the hours we spent, just the two of us, within the walls of our compact little apartment. Pepper, knowing neither of us had much to speak of in the way of possessions, had given us carte blanche to order whatever we liked to make the rooms cosy. We had both been a little hesitant to do so, me because I wasn’t used to surrounding myself with anything that wasn’t purely functional, and Melanie because she was uncomfortable with the idea of spending someone else’s money. In the end, however, Pepper had worn us down, so we had invested in a few paintings, cushions, and rugs to brighten up the rooms. Melanie had requested some scented candles, and a bookcase that was already sporting several cheap science-fiction novels, much to my amusement. My own particular choice had been a large carved wooden chest that I had fitted with a thumb-print lock to store my new arsenal of weapons. For my own peace of mind, I needed to keep them close at hand, but I wasn’t taking any chances about leaving them anywhere where they could potentially become lethal missiles if Melanie lost control again.</p><p>All in all, our quarters now had more personal touches than any I had ever possessed, and I was discovering a side to myself that had only ever manifested prior to this at the Bartons’ farm, a side I could only call domestic. Melanie was even teaching me to bake. Tonight, we had made chocolate fudge brownies, the process slowed and a tad muddled by our newly formed custom of translating everything into Russian and Gaelic as we went along, but the results still gratifyingly tasty. Our language lessons were proceeding well; I was picking up Gaelic faster than she was Russian, but considering my years of practice and the array of tongues I already had under my belt that was hardly surprising. For someone who confessed to little or no talent for languages she was doing remarkably well, and it gave me a little glow of pleasure every time she used a phrase correctly. Hearing my birth tongue spoken made the rooms feel even more like home to me, and I knew the same was true for her.</p><p>Now we were snuggled on our overstuffed sofa, watching a movie by candlelight, still licking chocolatey crumbs from our fingers.</p><p>“I still can’t believe you want to watch Star Trek,” I murmured teasingly. “I mean, you’ve travelled in time, seen aliens, gotten superpowers. Is real life not sci-fi enough for you?”</p><p>“Oh hush,” Melanie retorted. “I watched that god-awful Saw for you. Is real life not filled with enough pain and suffering for <em>you</em>?”</p><p>I chuckled. It was safe to say that we did not share the same taste in movies. I actually liked that about her; I wasn’t anything close to an expert on relationships but I had a feeling it wasn’t healthy to agree on everything, and if we were going to argue, I much preferred to do so about things that didn’t really matter. What movie we watched was irrelevant; I was content just to wrap my arms around her and bask in the sense of peace and <em>normality</em> that was so rare in my life, and precious beyond words. She snuggled contentedly against my front, and I resisted the urge to fondle her breasts through her tank top, contenting myself with tracing random patterns over her stomach and hips.</p><p>“So Maria and I were talking today,” I said once the final credits started rolling. “She wants to call a general meeting tomorrow. I’m pretty much back to full strength now; she wants me to take over. Properly, not just behind the scenes.”</p><p>Melanie twisted in my arms so she could look into my face. “Are you okay with that?”</p><p>I shrugged non-committally. “I guess.” In truth I was torn; I was reluctant for this tranquil interlude to be over. Once I took over full command of the compound my days would be full, leaving less time to spend with her. But I couldn’t help but admit that I was getting increasingly restless. It was frustrating overseeing things indirectly though Maria; I itched to take a hand in person.</p><p>Melanie smiled, as usual reading me correctly despite my poker face. “You don’t guess. You want to come out of hiding. You’re bored.”</p><p>“No!” I denied vehemently, worried she might be thinking I was getting bored of <em>her</em>. “I’m not bored of this, I love spending time with you.”</p><p>She chuckled. “And I love that you love spending time with me. But that’s not what I meant.” She kissed me gently. “Nat, you’re a warrior. A leader. You weren’t built to snuggle on the sofa in front of a movie. You were built for action. And that’s okay, because that’s who you are, and I love you for it. And hey,” she kissed me again, nibbling my lower lip, “just because you go back to work, doesn’t mean you never get to see me. There isn’t a crisis every day. Even Commanders get to be off duty. We’ll still do this. Just maybe not every night.”</p><p>I studied her anxiously. “You sure you’re okay with that?” I didn’t want her to feel like I was abandoning her amongst strangers she barely knew.</p><p>She smiled. “You’re so cute when you worry about me,” she said fondly, making me roll my eyes, still not comfortable with such epithets. “But I’ll be totally fine. Honestly. I’ve got plenty to do in the lab, even when Dr Cho leaves. Bruce has made me really welcome, and his research is fascinating, we’ve got a whole series of experiments planned.” Her eyes lit up with professional enthusiasm, and I had to smile. “And it wouldn’t kill me to hang out with your friends a bit more,” she continued. “I haven’t had chance to get to know them properly yet, but I like them. Wanda offered to take me for a walk, show me around the compound. I should take her up on that.” She stroked my cheek lovingly. “So go do your thing, Commander. I’m good. I’m <em>happy</em>. I promise.”</p><p>I hugged her tightly to me. “Thank you,” I whispered gratefully.</p><p>She returned to kissing me, and I breathed a little sigh of contentment as she parted my lips with her tongue and her hands began to wander. This was familiar now, and highly enjoyable, and while I still occasionally felt frustrated that it never developed into anything more, I was determined to adhere to our agreement to take things slowly.</p><p>So when Melanie’s hand slipped beneath my t-shirt, I was momentarily startled. “Mel?” I whispered uncertainly, as my right nipple turned hard and hot against her palm.</p><p>She smiled. “I was thinking,” she murmured, tracing her lips along my jaw, “that if this is the last night of our little holiday, we should make the most of it. Don’t you agree?”</p><p>The breath exploded out of my lungs in a sharp gasp as her lips continued to my neck, teasing the sensitive nerve-endings behind my ear. I couldn’t answer her question, overwhelmed by sudden sensory overload as her hand expertly played with my breast.</p><p>Her lips returned to mine, kissing me passionately, and I returned the passion with interest, my hands raking up her back.</p><p>“I’ll take that as a yes,” she mumbled between kisses. I just moaned in fervent agreement, intoxicated by the feel of her skin as I pushed my hands beneath her top.</p><p>After a minute, she gently disengaged, sliding off my lap. Smiling at my disgruntlement, she deftly extinguished the candles before taking my hand, tugging me to my feet. Forgetting my momentary annoyance as I realised her intent, I went along with her without protest, my heart beating frantically against my ribcage as she led me to the bedroom.</p><p>The door shut behind us, she came back into my arms, kissing me hungrily. The bedside lamp flickered into life, then dimmed to its lowest setting, illuminating the centre of the room while leaving the rest shrouded in shadows. The effect was of a muted spotlight in which our bed beckoned invitingly, an empty stage awaiting the players to perform.</p><p>Still kissing, we backed slowly into that circle of light. Part of me couldn’t believe this was finally happening, but there was no reluctance in Melanie’s touch; she wasn’t holding back this time. Her lips and hands and hips were an invitation.</p><p>With a quiet moan of longing I put pressure on her shoulders, encouraging her to sit on the edge of the bed. She resisted lying back, instead taking advantage of the fact that my breasts were now at her eye level to lift my t-shirt. I wasn’t wearing anything underneath it, neither of us were, having changed into our pj’s before settling down for the evening. Once the material of my loose t-shirt was bunched in her fists, there was nothing blocking her lips from tracing over every inch of my breasts before sucking my left nipple into her mouth.</p><p>I made a strangled sound, and involuntarily tangled my fingers in her hair, holding her in place as I arched into her ministrations. Her hands tugged at the material she held, and I willingly raised my arms so she could draw it over my head, almost drunk from the intoxicating sensations she was arousing deep in my core. I tugged insistently at her own clothing, and she smiled, raising her own arms in turn. Her tank top quickly joined my t-shirt on the floor. I pushed her firmly backwards, lowering her to the bed and sliding my body over hers.</p><p>One benefit to slowing things down was that I had had a lot of time to think about this, to rifle through my theoretical knowledge and my past sexual experiences to deduce what would most likely please her. My movements were confident as I pressed my thigh between her legs, rocking my hips into a steady rhythm while my mouth once more captured hers. She moaned into my kiss, her hands clutching at the skin of my back, and wrapped her leg around my waist, allowing me greater purchase against her cotton shorts. I smiled to myself, inwardly marvelling that so simple a move could feel so good; my own loins were tightening unbearably, yearning for more. Melanie moaned again, her breathing becoming increasingly ragged, and I realised we would have to dial it down a notch if we didn’t want this to be over too soon. So, little though I wanted to, I slowed my rhythm, easing off the pressure. Melanie’s whimper of disappointment was adorable. Smiling fondly, I went back to kissing her, and stroking my hands down her sides and around the modest curve of her breasts.</p><p>“I think someone likes being in charge,” she breathed huskily. She smiled, cracking one eye open. “Commander.”</p><p>I blushed, embarrassed to have my dominant instincts pointed out. It wasn’t a question of liking being in charge, it was a deeply ingrained reflex, born of countless dangerous liaisons where sex was not a personal choice but a weapon. And like any weapon, it could cut me just as easily as my target if I lost my concentration. The need to remain in control was so much a part of me, I wasn’t sure I could let it go. “Is… is that okay?” I murmured now, a little anxiously.</p><p>She laughed softly, jiggling me where I lay on her abdomen. “I can live with it,” she replied teasingly, “as long as you’re not planning to go full dominatrix on me. I’m not a fan of spanking. Just so you know.”</p><p>I grinned. “You might like it if I do it,” I returned playfully. I kissed her lingeringly, pulling at her lower lip with my teeth. “I’d be gentle.”</p><p>She chuckled, secure enough to enjoy the teasing. “Maybe some other time.” She closed her eyes again in bliss as I went back to nuzzling and suckling her breasts, then worked my way slowly over her torso, determined to know every inch of her. She giggled, squirming slightly, as my lips tickled the sensitive flesh under her arms and down her sides. Then I moved lower, planting delicate kisses along the line of her waistband. She gave a deep groan, her hips lifting, and I quickly captured her hands as she tried to remove her shorts. “Ah, ah, ah,” I teased. “Not so fast. We have all night, you know.”</p><p>She shook her head frantically, eyes smouldering. “But I want you now!”</p><p>“Patience is a virtue,” I told her, grinning, sliding back up over her body to place us mouth to mouth once again. She growled in frustration and attacked my lips feverishly, grinding against me in increasing desperation. I could feel her need burning through her body, acute to the point of pain, and it reminded me just how long she must have dreamed of this moment. The years she had spent watching me, longing for me, unable to even make herself heard; not to mention the months on the island, not daring to reach out even though I was right there. I had to admire the sheer strength of will it must have taken to stick to her convictions and delay this so long; the heat of her yearning felt so scorching, I honestly wasn’t sure how she had managed to hold it in all this time without spontaneously combusting. The thought ignited a need in me more powerful than any I had ever experienced, an overwhelming desire to please her. I wasn’t sure I could have denied that desire in this moment even if I wanted to.</p><p>Yielding to what we both so desperately wanted, I kissed my way back down her body again, and this time when I reached her hips I slid my fingers beneath her waistband. Melanie gave a gasp of anticipation, eagerly lifting her hips so that I could slide the fabric over her buttocks and then down her legs.</p><p>Tossing the garment aside, I sat back on my heels for a moment, gazing at the length of her naked body, my breath catching in my throat. She was so beautiful. My eyes lowered to parts of her that I was seeing for the first time, and I found myself marvelling. I had felt a touch apprehensive about this part, unsure how I would feel about confronting the realities of her gender for the first time, worried that I would find her repulsive. In a heartbeat that worry faded, replaced by complete incredulity at myself for not having done this years ago. Beneath the small tuft of blonde hair at the apex of her shapely thighs, the delicate creases and folds of her womanhood, glistening with the dew of her arousal, were incredibly alluring. Far more aesthetically pleasing than the male organ, I decided instantly. Quite ravishing in fact.</p><p>Melanie opened her eyes, and I realised I had remained still a moment too long. I hadn’t meant to show any sign of hesitation.</p><p>“You’re beautiful,” I told her sincerely, the desire in my husky voice instantly easing the vague worry lurking in her eyes. She smiled, and closed her eyes again with a delighted shiver as I lowered myself and started kissing along her hip bones and the hollows of her groin, stroking my hands lightly down her thighs. I was procrastinating only slightly, already more than tempted to just go for it, and the smell of her as I nibbled my way closer made up my mind. Itching to see if she tasted as good as she smelled, I settled myself comfortably between her legs, spread her exquisite folds gently with my thumbs, and took the plunge.</p><p>Melanie gave a cry that was almost a sob of relief. Her breathing came in short pants as I explored this exciting new territory, my tongue probing every little crease. She tasted amazing, and I decided I had found my new favourite occupation. Reaching the throbbing little nodule at the top, I lapped at it eagerly for a few seconds before throwing caution to the winds and sucking the entire small bundle of nerves into my mouth.</p><p>Melanie bucked, a strangled noise coming out of her mouth as she frantically moved her hips, desperate for satisfaction.</p><p>Her overpowering need was getting the better of me, unravelling my ability to stay focussed. I would have happily carried on worshiping her like this for hours, but Melanie clearly wasn’t going to be able to hold out much longer. I suspected it was only her formidable will that had prevented her exploding as soon as my mouth touched her. So, making a mental note to return for an extended visit as soon as feasibly possible, I proceeded to the next phase in my action plan. Shifting position slightly to give me better leverage, still suckling her, I deftly slipped my hand between her legs. Gently coating my fingers in her essence, I quickly had two digits buried inside her.</p><p>“Oh my god!” Melanie bucked again, almost delirious with pleasure.</p><p>Not wanting to overload her and risk spoiling the moment, I moved my mouth to her hips, tracing the hollows of her groan with my lips while my fingers settled into a rhythm.</p><p>“Oh god,” Melanie moaned again, seemingly unable to help herself. “Oh god, Nat! Oh god! Oh god!”</p><p>Flushed with my success, I increased the tempo.</p><p>Searching the velvety smooth softness of her inner walls, I found what I was looking for – a little patch that felt different. I began putting pressure on that spot, lightly at first, then harder, curling my fingers to ensure I hit it every time as I moved in and out. Melanie gave a yelp of ecstasy, clutching at the sheet beneath her, her voice rising an octave. “Oh – Nat – Oh – Nat,” she gasped in time with my thrusts, her eyes rolling back in her head. “Don’t – stop – please – never – ever – stop – !”</p><p>Judging my moment, I increased the tempo still further, and moved my mouth back to her throbbing nodule, flattening my tongue and pressing firmly.</p><p>“Oh GOD!”</p><p>Her cry of rapture rang out as the tension that had been building steadily within her suddenly peaked. The room shook and the window rattled as a tremor like a minor earthquake exploded out from her body.</p><p>Euphoric at my achievement, I slowed my ministrations but didn’t stop. Melanie slowly relaxed and went limp, an ecstatic smile on her face. I continued the slow pressure for a couple more minutes, giving her a gentle wind down from her high, enjoying the shivers that rippled through her body, tiny aftershocks that merely caused the room to tremble rather than shake. Finally, I eased to a natural standstill, my fingers still inside her.</p><p>After another long minute, she released a dreamy sigh and lightly placed her hand over mine. Complying with the silent cue to withdraw, I settled myself against her side. She curled her arms around me, cuddling me close, and I laid my head on her shoulder, content to bask in the warm glow of her satisfaction, and let her savour the moment. She had waited for it long enough.</p><p>“You’re not bad for a beginner,” she murmured eventually, her voice dreamy. I laughed softly, remembering my words to her on the beach. “Are you sure you’ve never done that before?”</p><p>“Nope. First time.” I grinned, propping myself up on my elbow. “I must be a natural. I’ve never <em>literally</em> made the earth move before!”</p><p>“Oops.” Melanie looked slightly embarrassed. “I hope the others don’t realise.”</p><p>I raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding? Little bird, they probably heard you squawking on the other side of the compound.”</p><p>“Oh god!” Melanie covered her face with her hands, mortified.</p><p>“Relax,” I told her, chuckling, tugging her hands back down, “I’m kidding. The private quarters are pretty well sound-proofed. I’m sure nobody heard anything, or noticed a little tremor.” I grinned. “And even if they did, there’s no shame in them knowing how much you’re enjoying yourself. I have a reputation to maintain, after all.”</p><p>Melanie rolled her eyes. “No-one ever called you modest, did they?” Then she couldn’t help cracking a smile at my obvious satisfaction. “You look like the cat that just got the cream. You’re loving this aren’t you?” she purred, twisting so that she could press her lips to mine. “You’re loving that you literally just rocked my world.”</p><p>“<em>Da</em>,” I agreed smugly, my grin stretching from ear to ear.</p><p>She pushed me onto my back, gracefully twisting upright to sit astride my hips. “And now that the Commander has proven her skill,” she murmured wickedly, settling her hips into a new rhythm. “Would she care to evaluate mine?”</p><p>My breath caught, and I had to fight to maintain an appearance of nonchalance while my stomach did backflips. “Well,” I drawled once I could trust myself to speak. “I suppose it is my duty, as Commander, to put my recruits through their paces. Evaluate their strength and weaknesses. Determine what skills – ahhh,” my hips bucked involuntarily as her hand dipped between my legs, “what skills, if any, they need to work on,” I concluded, my breathing ragged.</p><p>Melanie grinned. “Well then,” she said playfully, leaning down to nuzzle my neck. “Commander. As your newest recruit, I humbly submit myself for assessment.”</p><p>“Humble my arse,” I muttered almost inaudibly, my eyelids fluttering a little as her hands kneaded and her mouth travelled over my skin. As submissive behaviour went, hers was pretty tame, but I was loving it nonetheless. It tapped into my dominant side just enough to let me feel I was in control, while not descending into a level of kinkiness I instinctively understood Melanie was not ready for. Perhaps in the future, if she seemed amenable, we might try a few things. But not now.</p><p>My shorts soon went the way of the rest of our clothing, and I found myself holding my breath as Melanie kissed her way back up my legs, from my ankle, over my calf, behind my knee, then slowly up the inside of my thigh. She paused there, nibbling gently at the sensitive flesh, so close I could almost feel her warm breath. Her actions drove me wild, and it was all I could do to keep myself from begging.</p><p><em>You are the Black Widow</em>, I reminded myself in increasing desperation. <em>You are in control. You do not beg!</em></p><p>But I could not withhold a slight whimper of disappointment as she began to move again, bypassing my burning need and kissing her way back up my stomach to once more tease my breasts. The sensation of her teeth biting gently at my nipple was too much for me. I gave in to impulse and pushed on the top of her head in silent appeal.</p><p>I felt her lips curve in a smile. I wondered if she would realise the significance of her achievement, continue to tease, rub my nose in the fact that she had succeeded in making me plead for mercy, however slightly. Then I disregarded the thought as Melanie obediently moved back lower, scolding myself for getting carried away. This wasn’t a power trip. Melanie was not trying to assert her dominance, she was just being playful. She wasn’t trying to deny me my moment with her teasing, merely make it all the sweeter.</p><p>I relaxed, allowing myself a moan of pure joy as she reached the aching heat between my thighs. Melanie parted my legs wider with a firm but gentle pressure. With the briefest pause to examine her prize exultantly, she bent her head and took her first long, loving taste.</p><p>I let out an involuntary cry, stunned almost to insensibility by her confidence. From the first touch of her hot tongue it was clear that she was a master, her natural ability at this far outstripping mine. Her tongue was firm and sure and unerringly accurate, and within seconds any pretence I had of remaining in control went out of the window. For a short time, I somehow retained the presence of mind to take mental notes, determined to try some of these tricks out myself later; but before long I was no longer capable of rational thought, or any thought at all, other than this was wonderful, she was wonderful, and I never, ever wanted her to stop! By the time her deft fingers were added to the mix, the pleasure was so intense I could barely remember my own name.</p><p>My need, while strong, had not been nearly as urgent as hers. She was able to take her time, effortlessly stimulating me to the brink and keeping me there. For an endless, unknowable time I was lost to the world, suspended in a golden sphere of pure, unadulterated sensation. The incredible feelings built and built, and somehow, impossibly, built some more.</p><p>Finally, I could take no more, her name dropping from my lips in an almost continuous litany, so desperate for completion that for a brief moment I would have done anything she asked without question, a state that would have struck me as supremely ironic had I retained the wit to see it, considering how many targets I had reduced to this exact condition. Fortunately for the world, Melanie was no evil mastermind looking for an advantage. Her genuine desire to please me, purely to make me happy, surrounded me like a force field, allowing no splinter of doubt to penetrate. The sensations swelled to an unbearable crescendo. Then, like a bomb reaching the end of a lengthy countdown, all that pent up energy was abruptly released. The resulting explosion shuddered its way through my entire body, pleasure crashing over me in relentless waves.</p><p>Gradually, the tremors running through my body ebbed. I lay, panting, utterly spent and tingling all over, feeling like I might float away.</p><p>Melanie crawled back up level with me. She brought the forgotten bedclothes with her and covered both of us, then snuggled close, her arm across my chest. I idly traced random patterns on her back as I stared unseeing at the circle of light on the ceiling, so relaxed and satisfied that it took some time before any kind of coherent thought entered my head.</p><p>Eventually, it occurred to me I was ignoring my partner, which after the experience she had just given me was unforgivably rude. I wriggled slightly to one side so that I could peer into Melanie’s face.</p><p>She chuckled softly at my half delirious, half anxious expression, reaching up a gentle hand to stroke my cheek. “You’re welcome,” she murmured.</p><p>I smacked her bare shoulder playfully, but it turned into a caress. I stroked her smooth skin wonderingly, still overcome, and a tiny bit guilty. In the back of my mind, I knew I had been mentally preparing to feel slightly disappointed; to enjoy myself, certainly, but still feel that overall the coupling lacked something. Instead, I had just experienced the most incredible moment of my life.</p><p>“You are… amazing,” I marvelled softly. “I never thought… I never imagined…” I struggled for words, unable to articulate what was going on in my head. Finally I began to laugh, quietly, my shoulders shaking with amusement.</p><p>Melanie raised an eyebrow.</p><p>I hurried to explain, not wanting her to think I was laughing at her. “I was just thinking, what the hell have I been doing, wasting my time with guys all these years? Is it always like this with a woman? Because if it is, Jesus, I’ve been seriously missing out!”</p><p>She chuckled softly. “Do I take it you judge my skills adequate, Commander?” she asked demurely, her eyes dancing.</p><p>“Adequate?” I repeated incredulously, still reeling. “That’s not quite the word I’d use.” Then, with an effort, I tried to pull myself together. “I believe your abilities to be more than satisfactory, recruit,” I told her, smiling. “Of course, to be <em>absolutely</em> sure, I will need to conduct a more thorough assessment. See how you perform under a variety of different conditions. That sort of thing.” I wagged my eyebrows suggestively.</p><p>Melanie started to giggle helplessly.</p><p>“Hey,” I pretended to be offended, prodding her. “It’s disrespectful to laugh at your Commander, recruit. Don’t make me discipline you.”</p><p>Melanie gave a splutter, laughing still harder. “Stop,” she gasped, clutching her sides. “Give over with the Commander thing now, before I wet myself.”</p><p>I grinned, snuggling in close and tilting my head for a kiss. “As you wish.” Running my fingers through her soft hair, I found myself reflecting on my idiocy. If I had only opened my eyes and seen what was right in front of me… those months on the island could have been sheer bliss. Although, we might never have got out of bed long enough to do anything about getting <em>off</em> the island in that case. I chuckled softly to myself, shaking my head at the whimsies of fate. How narrowly I had escaped life imprisonment in a tropical paradise with a sex goddess.</p><p>I was so stupid.</p><p>“I do have one complaint,” I murmured.</p><p>“Do you now,” Melanie mumbled back. “What’s that?”</p><p>I pulled an aggrieved face. “I really, really wanted to taste you again tonight, but you did such a thorough job on me I don’t think I could move if my life depended on it.”</p><p>She laughed quietly.</p><p>We lay quietly for a time, drowsing contentedly. I couldn’t believe how insanely happy I was, or how incredibly good it felt to lie here together, our bodies wrapped around each other, warm skin on skin. I had never had this, not with anyone. So many sexual partners, so many nights of meaningless rutting and being gone before the sun came up. I had never dreamed that it could be like this.</p><p>“I love you.”</p><p>As they had on the quinjet, the words slipped effortlessly over my tongue, out before I even realised I was saying them.</p><p>Melanie said nothing, not making a big deal out of it, but I could feel her happiness, the unbounded joy that my words inspired.</p><p>Sleepily, I rolled over onto my right side, tugging at her hand. Understanding my wordless request, she snuggled in behind me, cradling me tenderly. Her lips gently nuzzled the back of my neck.</p><p>“I love you too,” she whispered.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you've enjoyed Natasha's journey so far, thanks for reading, and for the comments and kudos. Please do let me know what you liked (or didn't like) I would love to hear your thoughts.</p><p>If you would like to continue Natasha's journey, please go to part 2, but be warned, love is never straightforward, and Natasha has a very dark past to deal with.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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